Strange Things Happen in Libraries with Dr Pepper
by PippinStrange
Summary: A funny self insert. I, Pippin Baggins, fall in Narnia at the beginning of Prince Caspian. But I can't remember what happens in the future-my copy of Prince C is blank! NOT A MARY SUE, but a big funny problem. NOMINATED for New Best Narnia fic of 2008!
1. Sodas, Stuck Fingers, and Sandy Caves

This is just a random something-something I really wanted to write. Please review.

**Warning: This is UNASHAMEDLY A SELF-INSERT. YOU'VE BEEN WARNED.**

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Disclaimer:

I own myself.

I'm insanely in love with William Mosely, but that will not affect anything about Peter in this story. THIS IS NOT A MARY SUE!

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_Strange Things Happen in Libraries With Dr. Pepper_

By Pippin Baggins

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**Chapter One, **

**Sodas, Stuck Fingers, and Sandy Caves**

The library was extremely quiet, as usual. It was one of those days when I biked over in the Englandish kind of day. It was raining slightly, and the clouds were gray, but the air was fresh and smelled green. A good book day.

I found myself browsing through the original section of the building, still held together by 1940s framework of the darkest wood. Tall, skinny gothic windows let in little light, but it was enough to see I was in the fantasy section.

_Ah, C. S. Lewis_. My personal hero. I reached over and grabbed a worn Harper-&-Collins version of Prince Caspian. I opened it and read the table of contents. _How charming_—I had a copy at home, but it was a 90s edition. This was from the 60s, with Pauline Baynes illustrations—in color! I slipped it in my book-bag, pleased with the antiquity.

I looked over to my left, where the outside wall boasted of bookshelves eight feet high. Agitha Christie was stuck up there in the mysteries. _Poor ol' girl._

I glanced around…I was the only one there. No one could see me.

I pulled a can of Dr. Pepper out of my purse, mostly just because I was thirsty, and partly because I knew I'd be murdered by a librarian if I was caught with a carbonated drink over the carpeted area. I snapped the little lid-thingy and took a swig, and immediately started choking. I was hacking so loudly that it echoed.

I leaned on the wall with one hand, set my soda on the ground, and put the other hand to my throat. _I was going to DIE! I was going to DIE, alone, in a library! _

_How anticlimactic. _

My hand that held me up against the wall slipped, slid down the binding of another C. S. Lewis book, and slid into a tiny imperfection in the wood. My finger slipped inside what appeared to be a hole—on the shelf—and some kind of trigger gave away.

The bookshelf swung away from me, opening like a door, dragging me with it and leaving my Dr. Pepper behind. I saw the view from the windows on either side of my discovered door that looked over pavement two stories below. This was the outside wall! _The door was going to open into open air, and I would break my finger and plummet to my death! _

_Now, THIS was climatic. And such a romantic way to die. _

But instead of being jerked into the impending death I expected, I stepped—okay, I was PULLED—through the door into brilliant sunlight. And, the Dr. Pepper slipped down my throat and I swallowed.

I blinked.

"Yay!" I said, startling myself by speaking—and at the same time—jerking my finger out from the hole in the shelf. It began to swing close behind me.

"Wait, wait, wait, hold on…" I panicked, whirled around, and grabbed at it. But it was too late. It closed, and on this side of it, it was disguised as a rocky cliff face.

I was stuck in Middle Earth.

_Er, wait. _

It had to be Narnia.

I pulled the copy of Prince Caspian out of my book bag, and suddenly, I was very puzzled.

I did not remember the plot.

_I've read it twenty gazillion times. _

I opened it…and the pages were blank. Every single one. The beautiful illustrations…and the map, too.

And I had no idea what it was about. _I'd forgotten everything. _

"Dang you!" I shook my fist at the sky. "This is so I can't change anything, huh? Well, how about I MARCH over there and plant a kiss on Peter? HUH? HUH? Didja ever think about THAT one? I WILL BE A FREAKY MARY SUE!"

_Wait a second, I can't do that. I'm a devoted fan fiction author. It'd be like going against every thing I believe in. It would be like attending a Christian church wearing a red dot on my forehead. It'd be like joining Oxford and bringing booze. It'd be like showing up to school and failing the test. Well…_

"I refuse!" I said lightly, sitting in the sand. I was in a cave. _How tragic_. Brilliant sunlight, like I stated, shown in from the opening end that looked out onto a beach and four odd cats splashing in the waves.

_Hmm, I thought cats didn't like water_.

"I REFUSE TO DO THIS! YOU CAN'T MAKE ME! IT'S EVERY FAN GIRLS DREAM, BUT IT'S JUST WRONG!" I crossed my arms over my chest and decided I would go on strike.

"Peter, did you hear THAT?"

"Sounded like a girl screaming!"

"What did you say, Ed?"

"He said, Su, he heard a girl screaming!"

"It's coming from the cave."

"Let's go look!"

"Suppose she followed us from the train station?"

"No, it was just us four in there at first. You know that."

"Let's have a look, already! Come ON!"

"I've got a pickle, I've got a pickle," I began to sing, tapping my book bag in rhythm. "I've got a pickle…" I stopped when I noticed four silhouettes proceeding towards me.

"Hello there!" said the youngest in a cheerful voice. _So that was Lucy. Whats-his-face may have erased my mind about what was in my Prince Caspian copy, but he didn't let me forget what happened in the Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe._

"Hi," I said glumly.

"Who are you?" she asked.

"I'm M…" I started, then rethought it. _This is definitely going on fan fiction later. No names. It's the Internet. _"My name is Pippin. Pippin…Baggins?" I wasn't asking THEM what my name was. "My name is Pippin Baggins. Who are YOU?"

"I'm Lucy," Lucy held out a hand. I shook it.

"I'm Susan," I shook it.

"I'm Peter," I shook it and melted inside.

"I'm Edmund," I shook his hand too. _Were there no surprises in life?_

"So, how did YOU get here? You're not a…native?" Peter asked, taking charge, as usual. "You are strangely dressed."

I glanced at his school uniform. "Oh, buddy," I said, suppressing a giggle. "I'm from the same place you are. Planet Earth. America. Well, that is, you ARE from there, right?" I added the last part innocently.

"England," Susan said shortly.

"So, if I WERE a native, what would I be a native of?" I asked, trying to talk more than necessary, and for whatever reason, I don't know, but it was nice to over-chat and let them try and keep up.

"Narnia," said Edmund. "But anyhow, Pippin, how'd you get here?"

"It was definitely Dr. Pepper," I muttered to myself. "Actually," I said out loud, "I was in the public library looking over…books. The wall opened and I was pulled in. Savvy?"

"You were pulled in like us!" Lucy exclaimed, looking happy. "You see, we're all Kings and Queen's of Narnia…"

"Lu," warned Susan and Peter at the same time.

"We came from England during the air raids, came here, battled the White Witch, became rulers, returned, and now a year later—we've come back!" Lucy looked at me expectantly.

"Um, well, that's jolly good news for you, Your Majesty." I automatically went into a British accent. _Oops. Well, at least I'm good at it._

All of them stared at me as if I was insane.

"Can I just go with you, then?" I lapsed back into U.S-ish. "I admit, I am lost, and I don't know what's going on…"

"I don't think so," Peter said quickly.

"Oh, come off it," said Ed, "Remember how WE first felt when we FIRST came here?"

"Yeah!" I agreed wholeheartedly. "You can't just…leave me. All alone. What if the Beaver just abandoned YOU when you first arrived?"

"How did you know about Mr. Beaver?" asked Susan incredulously.

"I took a wild guess. Dolphins were out of the question." I glanced at their stony faces. "Well, um, okay…" still stone. "So, I guess, if you don't want me around, can you just kill me now? I'd rather not starve to death."

"KILL you?" Peter exclaimed.

"You'll do it? Okay!" I grinned. "That's a nice sword. May I poke it?"

"You certainly may NOT poke it!"

"Fine!" I stood up and began walking towards the cave entrance.

"Where are you going?" Ed asked.

"Oh Aslan!" I began singing, spreading my arms out like a plane when I first reached the lapping waves. "Aslan! Come forth! I needs you real bad! Aaaaaaslaaaaan??"

"You know of Aslan?" asked Edmund, leading the group as they trailed behind me.

"Who doesn't?" I gave him a look, like he was daft or something. "He's all powerful. The Great Lion. The Son of the Emperor Across the Sea. King over all High Kings. Lord of the Wood. He…um…" I was going to say he delivers Narnia from this second catastrophe, but that bit of information slipped from my head before I could fathom it. _Darn mind wipes_.

"You're loyal to Him, then?" Peter asked.

"Yes!" I said, with every ounce of devotion I could muster. "He died on the Stone Table! Doesn't he deserve it?"

"How did you know about that if you've never been here before?" Susan asked.

"Do tell us, its alright," Lucy said.

"I don't know!" I snapped. "I just KNOW. It's not something you're TOLD. It's something you KNOW." _Or read in a fictional book! _I added silently.

"Alright, I say we put it to a vote," Susan said.

"I'm High King, I get the final say," Peter said.

"Yeah and I have darker hair!" mocked Edmund. "What I say goes."

Lucy shrugged. "I don't care!"

"How about I SAY SOMETHING?" I cried. "Vote, you sillies!"

"She comes with us," said Edmund.

"Me too," said Lucy.

"Well, fine," said Peter, "We can't just leave you in the beach. It's rude."

"Thanks, your Worshipfulness," I imitated Harrison Ford and failed miserably.

Susan sighed. "I planned on voting yes all along. As Queen of this country, I can't just condemn a stranger to wandering in the wilderness. We owe you hospitality, especially if you are loyal to Aslan."

"Hospitality?" asked Edmund. "Why should we owe hospitality if we don't know where WE are?"

"Where do YOU think we are?" Peter laughed in disbelief.

"In Narnia…" Lucy whispered, trying to help Ed out.

"But I don't remember any ruins in Narnia," Ed said, pointing.

A big, broken, stone turret protruded from the trees.

"Oh! Castle!" I squeaked.

They glanced at me.

"Well, duh," I muttered, as they all turned and began heading back up the beach.

I stumbled down the beach after them. "Drink up me hearties, yo ho…I love this song! I'm going to teach it to the whole crew and we'll all sing it! Yo ho yo ho a pirates life for me!"

The four Pevensies ignored me and disappeared in the trees.

"Go on and receive almost certain death?" I mused to myself. "Hmm. Well. To die would be an awfully big adventure, right?" I shook myself. "INTO THE WOODS!" I sang sappily. "Into the woods I go!"

"Be quiet," hissed Peter from ahead. "We don't know if we are without enemies."

"To go, or not to go," I debated again. "Stay and die on the sand. Go on and die by something else that I cannot remember because the book is blank and my memory of its interior is gone. Go or stay? To be or not to be?"

"Do come on," Lucy came to me and took my hand. "You can walk with me."

"Do you have any tea?" I asked.

"No, I'm afraid not," she grinned.

"Oh, badgers and breadsticks!" I snorted. "And I ain't got no pocket hankercheif, either! An adventure and no tissue!"

_I am going to die!_

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**Read and review my peeps!**


	2. I Am A Hobbit

**Whoa!**

**I never expected so much support, nor reviews, for just this one chapter! I thought you guys would hate it! You don't even know how cheerful and bubbly this makes me feel with such positive feedback. **

**Answers to Questions:**

Tabbyheart: "To die would be an awfully big adventure" is from Peter Pan, yes, but its not just the stage play with Cathy. It's from the original James Barrie book and they say it in almost every film version: like the newest one with Jeremy Sumpter or Steven Speilbergs' 'Hook'.

Violingal13: The craziness will calm once I'm used to Narnia lol. Don't worry, there will be very serious character development. It won't always be so random and silly. :-)

Anyway, you guys, thanks so much for latching onto this story like Klingons! It makes me so happy!

God Bless,

Pippin

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**Chapter 2**

**I Am A Hobbit**

I had dreadful imaginings of how I might receive my death. The thoughts whirled 'round and 'round my head in a dizzying frenzy. Would I fight in a battle? Fall off a cliff? Perhaps I'd get captured by a Witch and beheaded.

"Oooh!" breathed Lucy when we came out of the underbrush and into the ruins, where gigantic apple trees coiled out of the ground to hunch over the broken walls. The stones were parchment colored and littered the ground like molehills. A few towers, pillars half-eaten by ivy, and a crumbling dais was all that was left of what might have been the biggest, most beautiful castle in existence.

I immediately sobered. "Oh," I said, reaching out and poking a chunk of foundation. "This is really…sad. This is…awful!" I was obsessed with old British stuff, and castles were one of those things in my favorites list.

My stomach growled. Lucy glanced at me, giggled, and walked over to a gnarly old apple tree, where the bright sweet smelling apples hung. She plucked one off and scampered towards what appeared to be the remains of a balcony looking over the beach we'd just come from (we were higher up now, from the beach, it was all uphill).

"Apple sounds good," I mused, walking over and reached out. The red fruits hung just beyond reach. "Hmm," I hummed. "Lucy couldn't be taller than me—she just couldn't! That sucks!" I strained for the apple, but the sunlight caused it to sparkle in defiance. I couldn't reach!

"Here," Peter said, sounding slightly annoyed, as he reached over my head and grabbed it. He handed it to me.

"Thanks, Sir, King, High King," I repeated, wondering which one sounded best.

"High King Peter works," he offered.

"No offence," I frowned, "But that's a mouthful—even for me—and I sometimes have a spectacular habit of spouting out phrases, or words, that have significant meaning but can only be deciphered by myself if I was the one I was in conversation with, and normally I'm not, so I just have to keep things short for the people trying to comprehend me."

Peter blinked. "Your point?"

"I think I'll just shorten it to Peter," I said.

He sighed with resignation.

"It's not like you're a martyr or anything," I said hastily, "Besides. You're not MY king. I'm not Narnian."

He glanced at me. "Are you SURE you're not Narnian?"

"I seem human enough," I glanced down at my faded blue jeans, converse, and the gray T-shirt I wore that was four sizes too large for me. "Um, don't I?"

"Well, you are awfully short," he said doubtfully. "Human clothes look…a little big on you. Could you not be part dwarf?"

"I'm older than Susan," I countered.

"I guessed as much. But that's why I was wondering. Lucy is taller than you."

"She is not!"

"She is five foot two," said Peter slowly, "And a half inch. And she's almost eleven."

I'd been slightly sensitive about my height since graduating from high school, wondering if my new friends in the university would be as accepting as my friends at the public high school. My friends still teased me, of course, but it was affectionate. I was almost immediately defensive with strangers regarding my height.

"Oh!" I finally said, trying to look enlightened. "Well. Aha. Hum."

"So?"

"So what?"

"Narnian, or human?"

"Neither," I said, brightening immediately. "I'm a Hobbit."

"A what?"

"A hobbit," I said, grinning. At his perplexed look, I let the smile fall off my face and hit the ground with a soft plop. "Never mind. You wouldn't understand. Wrong universe, anyway."

_I'd probably feel at home if I landed in Lord of the Rings! Why did it have to be Narnia? I mean, I love Narnia, but I probably am not in the best situation here. _

"I'm five foot," I finally said grudgingly. "And a half inch, mind you. But its not because I'm some kind of animal. I'm just short. So, yeah, do you want to drop the subject, or should we just proceed with the interrogation?"

"Oh," said Peter, "I'm sorry. That wasn't nice of me to question you. I'm just as curious as you are about this place. Just looking for answers, you know?"

"Yeah, I guess."

"Look," he was totally groveling now. "I'm sorry. It's not nice to question girls about their looks. That was positively horrid of me. I apologize." Then he walked away.

I skipped after him, tripping over a rock and falling flat on my face, immersed in the tall grass. When Peter turned around to see what the thump was, and saw nothing, he shrugged and continued on.

_Aw, shucks. The one time my clumsiness gets noticed by an attractive guy, they don't even see me!_

I scrambled back up and followed him into the center of what appeared to be a courtyard with an old well. Everything was half-gloomy and three fourths elderly looking!

"I wonder who lived here," asked Lucy, looking over the balcony.

Susan came down the hill, picked something off the ground, and examined it. "I think we did!"

Everyone looked at her in surprise. I copied the motion so I wouldn't feel out of the loop. I remembered distinctly that Cair Paravel, in LWW, was a place of splendor and light...not this rock quarry with too many apples to let another smell get a whiff in edgewise.

_This is definetly NOT Cair Paravel._

"Hey, that's mine!" Edmund said, going to her and pulling the item from her hand. "It's from my chess set!"

"I like chess," I muttered, getting closer so I could see the piece. It was the Knight with a ruby eye (the other was missing) and made of solid gold.

"Which chess set?" asked Peter.

"I didn't have a gold chess set in Finchley," Edmund offered sensibly.

_Well, okay, at least there's not a test later. _

Suddenly Lucy was freaking out and talking at about a hundred miles a minute, pulling Peter towards the round stone floor that was still intact. I couldn't remember a word she said, so I can't really write it down for you. Sorry.

She got them all set up in a little line, saying things like, "Imagine a glass roof," or "See columns over there," or "Remember the stairs down this way…" until the four of them were standing there, looking regal and royal, like I always imagined they would be when I read my books. _My goodness, was I ALWAYS this sentimental about Narnia?_

I stood in front of them down in the grass, as if I was an audience watching actors on stage. I shifted nervously as they looked at the view over my head and behind me.

"Cair Paravel," said Peter.

I clapped for their performance twice, and realizing how serious they were, immediately stopped and clasped my hands behind my back. "Sorry," I said quietly, hoping no one noticed.

Edmund left their special line and went over to examine some rocks. "This didn't just happen over a few years," he said sorrowfully, "Cair Paravel was attacked."

"What is it?" Peter asked, following him.

Edmund's hands traced the marks. "Catapults."

_I feel very unnecessary right now. _"Gah," I said, breaking the silence with frustration, "Didn't you people have basements?"

They stared at me.

"Cellars?" I tried. "That would have survived catapults, right?"

"By jove, she's right," Ed scrambled over to a remainder of the turret and pulled vines from the wall. "This would have been the entrance to the treasure chamber, if its still there. Come on." Peter and he began to push a stone wall away like a sliding door.

"Treasure chamber?" I asked, trying not to go into pirate mode, and strange habit I had. I couldn't do that to THEM, poor, polite children. It'd happened already on the beach, but that wasn't too bad—just a musical number. It could be worse.

"Nothing Aztec?" I asked hopefully.

"No, just treasure," Lucy smiled at me. Susan rolled her eyes. She pretty much hated me, I could tell.

"Good," I sighed. "Aztec gold is cursed, you know. They say if you wear a gold Aztec medallion, you'll be shown for what you really are under the moonlight—and generally it turns you to the living undead—a corpse, or skeleton, if you will."

Lucy raised her eyebrows. "How exciting! What else?"

"Please," Susan said, interrupting my story. "I wish you wouldn't talk about all that rot. It's horrid."

"Well, alright," I said, shrugging. Peter and Ed had the stone moved in another few seconds, and behind it was a wooden door. Peter drew back his fist to punch it in.

"Wait!" I cried. "Can I do it? Please? I want to try and break it down."

"Why?" Susan asked, exasperated.

"Because it looks like fun," I said obviously. Edmund gave me a large grin.

"Sure," Peter said, unconcerned, stepping back.

I examined my hand. It was only five and a half inches long from wrist to middle finger, and the normal length is six to eight inches. I don't think a punch would do much good. I didn't have much upper body strength, either. I was a runner, actually.

I startled everyone by launching forward, throwing up my foot, and kicking the door in. Then, for a brief instant, I hung suspended in space. Then I began the long fall down the stairs.

"WAH!" I screamed, going head over heals on this end, bouncing off, and hitting another stair, screeching with the impact. I flipped over end on that one as well and landed with a thud in a pile of dirt. Thank goodness, I fell off the side rather than going all the way down those stairs.

"Oh," I said, "Oh my!"

"Pippin!" cried several voices from the tiny spot of light at the top of the stairs. "Are you still alive?"

"Is she dead?" shrieked Lucy.

"No. I am not dead." I groaned and sat up, my head spinning in the blackness. "Never mind. I AM dead. My ghost will be back to avenge me." I tried to stand. "OOOOOOOOUCH."

"We need to get down there," Peter said, scrambling around outside.

"She could be going into shock," said Susan.

"I am not!" I yipped. "I'm just black and blue all over. And there's not light so I'm not going anywhere."

"Peter," Edmund said in a funny voice, "Stop trying to make torches. I have my electric one."

"You could have said something before!" laughed Peter.

Edmund's light penetrated the darkness as he began coming down the stairs, the beam of dusty light waving back and forth lightly until it rested on me.

"Hello," I said sorrowfully.

"Hello," Edmund matched my tone. He clambered down the last stair and came to me, holding out his hand. "Anything broken?"

"My spleen," I said, taking his hand. He hoisted me up, trying not to laugh.

"Your spleen?"

"And my butt," I said, then quickly rethought that. _He's a polite Brit boy. I can't say butt. That's too much for him. _"Tailbone," I quickly corrected.

"Are you sure?" Edmund asked.

"Pretty sure," I imitated Harrison Ford again, but this time it was from Indiana Jones. Not much better luck on that one, either!

"Can you walk?" Peter came up behind Edmund, looking like he was going for the know-it-all approach. "Do you feel dizzy? Or faint?"

"No, but I will have some bruises later, I landed in that pile of dirt…" I pointed, but there was a lack of piles.

"Where?" asked Susan, sounding like I was fibbing.

"It was just there!" I said, startled. There was no pile of dirt.

"You sure about that?" Susan repeated.

"I swear!"

"You'd better keep an eye on her, Dr. Peter," said Susan, "She may have a head injury after all."

"I believe you!" Lucy squeaked with such ferocity is shocked me, but of course, it was pulling back some unpleasant memories for her or something.

"Me too," Edmund patted me tentatively on the shoulder and led the rest of the way down another flight of stairs. I picked my way down at the end of the line and was nearly hyperventilating by the time I got to the end. I'd always been afraid of heights, and now, it was a full-blown psychotic phobia.

"Look!" Peter cried.

"It's all still here!" Lucy added.

"Our trunks!"

"And out gifts!"

It was like Christmas.

We were in a hollow bowl in the ground—well, that's what it felt like—rather like a greenhouse where a path goes through the middle and on either side, there's stores of treasures. And there was every kind of treasure, too! Precious jewels, armor, weapons, tapestries, dishes, clothes, jewelry, decorations, crowns, and ever so much more.

"Just like Christmas," I said out loud.

The four siblings soon forgot about me, they were all busy commenting on Peter's sword. Something about Lion's teeth and winter ending. _Very poetic._

"Look how tall I was!" Lucy said, holding a dress to herself.

"You were older then," Susan laughed.

"As opposed to hundreds of years later when you're younger," Edmund said from the interior of an oversized helmet. I giggled.

"So, that means…" Lucy's eyes filled up with tears. "That everyone we knew…Mr. Tumnus and the Beavers…all gone."

I impulsively scooted to her side and put an arm around her. She smiled at me a little through her tears. "I understand," I said for her ears only. "Or at least, I'm trying to. I have no idea what's happening back home. What if I get back and it's hundreds of years later?"

"I hope for you," Lucy said in a queenly voice, "That it will be much easier. When we first got back, only a few seconds had passed. I hope you have the same."

"Thanks," I said gratefully, moving my arm away. I felt a little awkward. I'd only met them about thirty minutes ago. I was getting too attached.

"Let's take our gifts, and change clothes," Peter advised. "I think it's time we found out what happened here."

"Here," Lucy said, handing me a smoky gray gown plain of markings but extremely feminine and pretty. "This should fit you. I save it because I wore it to a tournament only a year and a half after our coronation."

"Are you saying that a dress you wore at eight or nine years old is going to fit me? I'm eighteen!" I protested, teasing her.

"Do you want to travel in THOSE things?" she indicated my clothes.

"And you want to travel in a dress?" I asked.

"I guess I'm used to it."

"Methinks you are."

"I have about ten years on you, technically, as far as age," Lucy added.

I took the hint. And I also took the dress.

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**Well, sorry it was more of a filler chapter, but don't worry! Trumpkin will show up soon, and then the real adventure begins!**

**Read and review!**


	3. An Uglier Hobbit and UnHappenings

Wow, as always, you guys amaze me! Thanks so much for the unending support, helpful hints, corrections, and all those other awesome things that I need to get me geared up for the next chapter. You guys ROCK!

**Yours ever,**

**Pip**

**PS: Further up, and further in!**

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**Answers to questions:**

_**Pippin Took (not me) is 3'8". Being a hobbit, for me, is an inside joke. :-)**_

_**This will be movie verse. I couldn't destroy C. S. Lewis' book by adding in a freaky teenager not only from a different world, but also from the future. I don't really have a problem doing it to a Disney adaptation, though. Call me crazy. No offense intended to Disney, I REALLY did love the movie. There will be two or three little book things here and there though—Susan won't fight at the end, a few extra days may be spent traveling, etc. Miraz will be taller…(just kiddin') Oh, and I don't have the movie memorized, so I'll use a bit of dialogue from the books to cover those moments. **_

_**Kat Kat B? They say hello back! Actually, to be more specific:**_

_**Lucy: Hello thah!**_

_**Edmund: 'ello. **_

_**Susan: Good afternoon. **_

_**Peter: bows**_

_**Monkey, dear, you inspire me. It is completely in character for myself to scream "Nazgul!!" Maybe because I've done it a few times already, but never during an actual battle…**_

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**Chapter 3**

**An Uglier Hobbit and Un-Happenings**

I managed to get into the dress, despite an entanglement of sore limbs in which my left arm was twisted the wrong direction, and as for the other arm…I completely lost track of it.

It was all worth it in the end to pat down the wrinkles and examine my new look as well as I could without a mirror. I was really glad I'd decided to skip wearing make-up that day, it would have been a total disaster by now.

I twirled in a circle three times, liking the whoosh of skirtness. It was thick with petticoat-like layers and extremely comfortable. There was a large leaf stuck to my sleeve—the small thicket that I'd chosen for my dressing room wanted me to have a souvenir apparently—so I grasped the leaf and flung it away. It fluttered to the ground. I picked up my book bag and slung it over my shoulder, then felt something touch my hand—like the whisper of butterfly wings.

I looked down at my hand and gasped. The leaf was still there. I screeched and tossed it again, flinging it farther this time. It landed in the exact spot it had before.

I backed out of the thicket, wondering if I was going crazy. I walked backwards for as long as I could, wondering if the leaf was suddenly going to grow legs and follow me out. I backed right into Edmund, who was adjusting his sword sheath.

"Whoa, steady there," he said, smiling at me. He caught my look. "What's wrong now?"

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you," I said, still staring into my now distant thicket.

"I may," Ed replied nicely.

Suddenly, something jumped back into my brain and made me feel insane all the more. "Edmund," I asked carefully, "Didn't Peter already have his sword?"

"Well, yes, many months ago—for us, that is…"

"No. I mean today. On the beach, before we even found the treasure chamber."

Ed looked at me questionably. "I didn't think so."

"But, don't you remember?" I asked, feeling like a schizophrenic monkey. "I asked Peter to just kill me then so I wouldn't starve. And I asked if I could poke his sword."

"I never actually saw the sword," Ed told me, realization coming to him. "But I do have a vague memory of you saying that. But Peter just got his sword about ten minutes ago in the treasure chamber. How did it just magically appear beforehand?"

"I don't know," I said sourly. "Oh!" I remembered. "The dirt pile!"

"The absent one?" Edmund chuckled.

"No," I said dully, "You know I probably would have broken my neck from that fall if there wasn't something there to break it. And all I have a few bruises from falling eight feet or so."

"Good point."

"I swear, Edmund, there was a large pile of soft—almost dustish—dirt. I landed in it. And then it was gone."

"Are you saying the two are connected?" Edmund asked. "You really are crazy."

"That's not all!" I snapped. "Just now, there was a leaf stuck to my dress. I threw it away and watched it land on the ground. In not a moment's time, it was back in my hand."

"You really are off," Edmund said carelessly.

"It's happened three times in the last hour!" I said, feeling desperate. "I'm I just a Madness Case or something?"

"Let's find out," Edmund led the way back to the dais, where Peter, Su, and Lucy were all waiting. The sun was getting lower in the hills and their shadows stretched towards us and seemed to go on for infinity. The ocean had taken a lavender hue and the bird calls were growing more urgent. _I hope we don't have to spend the night here…_

"Peter," Edmund called, "Do you remember on the beach when Pippin asked you if she could poke your sword?"

Peter glanced at him. "When she what?"

"Wanted to poke your sword."

"She did nothing of the sort. I didn't even have my sword!"

"There's your answer," Ed turned to me. "You are a Madness Case."

"Aren't you supportive," I mumbled, perplexed by it all and wishing my brain would come back from wherever I left it last. "But THREE TIMES??"

"I'm just teasing," Edmund said, that cute little-boyish grin coming across his face again. _What is it with that grin?_ "I still believe you. But you could still be batty. I'd like to actually witness a little…um…phenomena, like you have. What shall we name them?"

"Un-happenings," I said quickly. "That about sums it up."

_I love naming things, this could be really fun! _

"She did nothing of the sort!" Peter suddenly called to us. "I didn't even have my sword!"

Edmund eyes grew huge.

"Four times," I said, a little smugly.

He looked at me, speechless. He glanced at Peter. "You already told us!"

"No, I didn't. Ed, what is wrong with you?" Peter raised his eyebrows.

"Nothing, Pete," Edmund looked at me again. "Un-happenings, huh?"

"Un-happenings. Do you believe me now? There's something strange going on."

"Yes, yes I do."

"Any theories?"

"Actually," Edmund began walking closer to the other Pevensies, "I think its just you."

"What?"

"I think you being here has thrown something off," Edmund smiled. "You've knocked out some kind of chemical balance. Maybe you've ruined something in Narnia's gravitational pull. Maybe there's some bad magic in the air when other humans appear."

"Well, fine!" I said, irritated. "Of course. Everything is my fault."

"It's not a bad thing," Edmund interjected quickly. "It's funny. It will certainly keep us on our toes, will it not?" I could see that he was still teasing me.

"Yeah," I said gloomily.

"Whatever are you two talking about?" asked Susan finally. "You're like a pair of lunatics. Chemical unbalances? I mean, really."

"A science test, uh—exam," I tried to cover. "That I had in school. I was telling him about it."

Susan's glanced shifted to me, then quickly went away.

"So," Peter broke the ensuing silence. "I think we'll have to sleep here tonight."

"What if it gets cold?" Susan asked practically. "What if it rains?"

Simultaneously, we all glanced into the cloudless sky.

"What if its too cold?" repeated Susan.

"Lucy and I fixed that," Peter said, sounding a little macho. "I got some of the rugs from downstairs—the chamber, I mean—and a few blankets. I've got it sorted out, don't worry."

Edmund rolled his eyes at the last statement. I made a mental note to ask him about Peter's whole macho thing later.

Peter and Lu went to work at laying down the rugs. I counted four. He also rolled out the blankets on top of the rugs—again, I counted four.

"I guess I'll go find something for me to use," I said, miffed. "Do you mind if I just pick and choose?"

"Oh, sorry," Peter said carelessly, "I'm not used to five of us."

Lucy glanced at me apologetically.

"I'll help you," offered Edmund.

"I think I can carry a blanket by myself," I said, wondering if girls were allowed to be macho too.

"Yes, but I have the electric torch," Edmund spun it in his hand like drummers do with their drumsticks.

"Then lead the way," I let him pass in front of me and we began descending the stairs. It was lighter than before since Peter had gone and lighted all the torches on the walls for a little illumination.

We passed by store of weapons. "Um, I have a little request," I mumbled, gesturing to the piles of things that made one say ouch. "I mean, since we're here, and we don't know, well…"

"Help yourself," Edmund read through the verbal car wreck.

I chose a short sword with the most inconspicuous leather strap from which it hung. I also snagged two arm guards and a pair of leather gloves.

"Done shopping?" asked Ed after a moment.

"Just," I quipped, throwing the last four items in my book-bag. "Think I'll need them?"

"Who knows," Edmund found a blanket, handed it to me, and picked up an ornate wine-colored tapestry with gold tassels.

"Carpet!" I cried with glee. I patted one of the tassels. "Wake up, silly. Take me on a ride."

At Edmund's startled glance, I explained, "Sorry, it's from a movie called Aladdin. It was a magic carpet that flew."

"Oh, from Arabian Nights," Edmund nodded. "I love that book. They've made a movie based on it?"

"Um, well, no," I stuttered. "They are planning on doing it. Someday."

"Wishful thinking," Edmund acted like he understood. He handed me the flashlight so he could use both hands on the heavy rug, and nodded towards the stairs.

That night was a very blue night. The moonlight caused everything to shine in an underwater-like glow. I couldn't sleep too well without my CD, in which the first three songs are _Oh What a Circus_ from Evita, _Ooh Aah_ by Toby Mac, and _Teardrops on my Guitar_ by Taylor Swift. I was always asleep by the third song.

"_Oh what a circus, oh what a show…_" I began to sing softly, hoping everyone else was asleep. "_Argentina has gone to town, over the death of an actress, called Eva Peron…we've all gone crazy, mourning all day and mourning all night_…"

"I'll be mourning all night if you don't stop," interjected Peter suddenly.

I felt my face flush deep red…I could tell because I suddenly felt like I was sunburned. "Sorry?" I tried. "You don't have to be so mean about it."

Peter inhaled long and exasperatingly. "Be mean about what?"

"You just told me to shut up."

"I did?"

"Yes."

"Oh, I'm sorry, I must have been sleep-talking." Peter sat up halfway and peered at me over the smoldering brushwood of the little campfire. "I woke up when I heard you say that I needed to be so mean about something."

"Go back to sleep," I suggested, turning over.

"Okay," he said, falling back into the carpet.

Silence resumed—if you can call it silence. Owls hooted in the treetops, the apples clunked together and made a soft thump when the riper ones fell. Tiny animals scurried in the grass. The ocean waves made a rhythmic lullaby down on the sand. A breeze whipped through the tangy salt grass by the beach, went through the sparse forest undergrowth, and finally caressed the ruins of Cair Paravel and darkened the last dying ember in our makeshift camp.

The morning dawned gray and chilled. Everyone felt damp from sleeping outside but it hadn't rained nor misted. The sun rose sleepily instead of blaring forth in all its happy goldenness, which helped us awake just as slowly.

"Morning, everyone," Lucy said quietly, rubbing weariness from her eyes and stretching.

I yawned. "What's for breakfast?" We'd had apples again last night right after Ed and I came up from the treasure chamber, and I expected apples again. "Want to make a bet?" I asked Susan. "I bet apples."

"We're having apples," Peter answered.

"I win," I joked to Susan.

"I don't gamble, it is not a very practical thing to do." Susan said plaintively.

"Oh," I felt the humor deflate.

So, unless I need to go over the details of how sweet-tasting Narnian apples are despite the repetitive consumption, I will move on to what happened after our breakfast.

We went down to where the ocean curved around the little island that Cair Paravel sat on top of. A river wound its way from the deep, dense woods and poured into the sea. We were at its mouth trying to figure out if we could cross, when we heard something unfamiliar.

"Here's a place as good as any," said a gruff voice in the distance. A broad boat with two queer helmets inside appeared about thirty yards away. Under the helmets were people, as you might have guessed. That they were two knights looking desperate and frightened became clearer as they got closer. By this time, we were hiding in the bushes.

One of them grasped a bundle, and I bit back a screech when I realized it was a small ugly child tied and gagged.

"Drop him!" cried Susan, springing from the bushes and letting an arrow fly from her bow. It sang through the air and embedded itself in the side of the boat.

"AH! The GHOSTS! FLY!" the two men in the boat threw themselves overboard and began swimming for the opposite shore as fast as they could go.

"Catch the boat!" cried Peter. "It's drifting!"

The two boys jumped into the shallows. I followed suite, tripped over a rock, and face planted an uncomfortable belly flop into two feet of water.

By the time I had struggled with the heap of skirts I was drowning in and stumbled back to shore, Peter and Ed were dragging the boat into the gravel. Lucy hopped into the boat and began untying the child. I glanced around, but the two soldiers were no where to be seen. _They'd made it to the opposite shore and ran for their lives, I expect. I wonder why. _

Coughing out water, I joined the Pevensies at the side of the rowboat. Lucy finished freeing the child, and he looked up at us.

"Good Lord," I hacked, "You have a beard!"

_He's an uglier hobbit than I am!_

Before us was undoubtedly a hobbit—well, actually—a dwarf. He had big blue eyes and a full red beard with lots of white in it. (He must be a bit older). He looked up at us in shock.

"Drop him?" he repeated, crawling out of the boat. "That's the best you can do?"

"A simple thank-you would suffice," Susan said in disbelief.

"Pity they got away," said the dwarf, "Now they'll go back to Miraz."

"I wasn't shooting to kill, you know," Susan said, sounding more than miffed.

"Who are you?" the dwarf asked, looking at us.

"High King Peter, the Magnificent," Peter reached out to shake his hand.

An uncomfortable pause took place, and the dwarf did not take his outstretched hand. He stared at it, instead.

"I think you could have left out the last part," Edmund snickered.

"Oh," said the dwarf, taking the four of them in. I took a hesitant step backwards, still wringing out my skirt. "Aha!" he repeated. "Bumblebees and bookshelves! It's you! You've GOT to be kidding me!"

There was an uncomfortable silence again.

"You're the kings and queens of old!" the dwarf cried. "Where've you been for the last few centuries?"

"It's a bit of a long story," Lucy smiled at him.

I strained to remember my book. I felt so out of things, not knowing what was going to happen. _Who was this dwarf dude? Could we trust him? What if he was some kind of mass murderer?_

"I suppose," said the dwarf, "Speaking of stories—I need to tell you MY story."

"I love story time!" I burst, plopping onto the sand and waiting like an eager kindergartner.

Surprisingly, everyone else seemed to agree that this was a good idea. They all sat down, and the dwarf lit a pipe that was nearly as long as his arm.

"Well, to begin with," he said, "My name is Trumpkin."

"Why were those men trying to kill you?" asked Lucy.

"Now, little missy," said Trumpkin, "If you don't interrupt, I can get through this story in no time!"

"Go on," I urged.

"Now then," Trumpkin tapped the ashes from his pipe, "I'm under the command of Prince Caspian the Tenth, the rightful king of Narnia. Well…I think I need to go back a bit further. The Telmarines invaded Narnia under the rule of Caspian the ninth a long bit ago. All of us Narnians drew into hiding—I suppose you could call us a rebellion."

There was a silence as he tapped his pipe again. A lone seagull cry echoed over the ocean rumble.

"Miraz, the brother of Caspian, took over the throne when Caspian the Ninth died. Caspian intended to become King when he was old enough, but Miraz had a son and wanted him to be his heir—his ONLY heir—mind you. Caspian was just a nuisance, so he arranged to have him killed. Caspian, warned by the old Doctor, fled to the Woods—and he ended up finding me, Nikabrik (he's a black dwarf) and Trufflehunter, who is a badger. We explained that Narnia was only right if it were being ruled by a Son of Adam, and as the rightful king, he could defeat Miraz and establish peace again between Telmar and Narnia. There's a lot more detail than I just gave—but that about does it. We agreed that we needed some help, so Caspian blew the great horn of Queen Susan as an attempt to call out your four ghosts." He glanced at us severely. "Are you ghosts?"

"No," Peter said, "We were called from our own world."

"And why are is there five of you?" the dwarf looked around.

"I'm the…bodyguard," I answered lamely.

"Aha," the dwarf said. "To continue; after that, I came to find your ghosts. And then I was captured and brought here to be drowned."

We all gave him our sympathies. Or at least I did—mentally.

"Now, look," said Trumpkin, standing. "We're awfully fond of children, and all, but we were expecting warriors."

"I suppose you DON'T think we won the battle against the White Witch?" Edmund asked. "Huh! Fancy that! Why don't we have a little spar, you and I? I don't suppose it'd do any good—me being a child and all—but I need to get back into practice."

"Don't see what harm it'd do," Trumpkin tucked his pipe in his belt and Peter offered him his large sword. Edmund drew his sword slowly. Peter, Susan, Lucy, and I backed away quickly.

Suddenly, the air felt so tense you could have cut it with a knife—like a rubber band stretching farther and farther until it snapped.

With a flash, suddenly Trumpkin was at it, swinging the blade back and forth. Edmund was quick and dodged the blows, and got in a few of his own. I found myself crying, "Oh, careful! Please! It's all fun and games until someone loses an eye!"

Trumpkin used the hilt and bashed Edmund in the face with it. He wheeled back with a grunt.

"Careful, Ed!" cried Lucy.

They were at it again, every time the blades moved the reflection of the now fully arisen sun caught in them and blinded me. I could barely see what was happening.

With a flick of the wrist, Edmund disarmed Trumpkin and held the sword to his neck.

"Aha," said Trumpkin, breathing hard. "I see! You've learned a trick I've not yet learned myself. Very clever of you, very very clever."

"Believe us now?" Edmund backed away and sheathed his sword.

"What a fool I've been," mumbled the dwarf. "Well," he straightened and handed Peter's sword back to him. "We were hoping for numbers, but perhaps there's a bit of magic in you somewhere. It's time we went to Caspian."

"That's why we're here," Peter agreed, but he didn't seem to be entirely convinced.

"So, Pumpkin," I ventured.

"It's Trumpkin," he growled softly.

"Do you have any _lembas_?"

"What the hedgehog is that?"

"It's a wafer bread. Elves make it."

The dwarf chuckled. "Lassie, elves are pretend. They are from fairy stories."

I found that extremely, strangely ironic. Fairy stories indeed.

"Well, I was just asking since I appear to be IN one," I suggested.

"Were you called up too?" Trumpkin ignored my previous conversation topic.

"I guess," I mumbled. "Strange things happen in libraries when you drink Dr. Pepper."

The dwarf was reaching for his sword. "Are you a VAMPIRE?"

"No," I said, astonished. "I am nothing of the sort!"

"Then how was it you were DRINKING Dr. Pepper?"

"Dr. Pepper isn't a person! It's a carbonated drink! It's like…fruit juice. Only it has bubbles in it!"

Trumpkin shook his head. "Don't be offended."

"I find vampires offensive. It's positively revolting! Plus, they don't exist!" I was starting to sound like Susan.

"Well, I just thought I'd ask, since we appear to be in a Fairy Story," Trumpkin grinned complacently.

I sighed. The Pevensies were in their own little circle, conversing about things. They broke apart and faced us again.

"Let's go up river," Peter suggested (or commanded, I'm not entirely sure). "He's in the woods, you say?"

"Yeah," the dwarf examined an oar inside the rowboat. "At least those Telmarines didn't take their boat with them."

I glanced at the river, wondering why 'Just Around the River Bend' was running through my head.

* * *

**Wow, long chapter! Have a good weekend!**

**Pip**


	4. Pooh Gone Mad

**Hey you guys, **

**Thanks for your lovely reviews, it is so very kind of you! See, I update really fast with the proper encouragement. And soon, summer will be here, and then I'll produce nearly a chapter a day (this will be spread out over my other three stories though; Mary Sam 2, the sequel to I was King of Narnia and this one) **

**Good times are coming! Pray for me during my finals? ;-)**

**Love,**

**Pippin B**

* * *

**Chapter 4**

**Pooh Gone Mad**

A trip down river wasn't entirely my cup of tea. It was more like a hose drench of the bluest water in the world and having no ability to enjoy it, because you were stuck in a rowboat with a cranky High King who poked you in the leg with his boot every time he drew the oars backwards.

I wished I hadn't worn the dress. I felt slightly damp all over with sweat and the sun glare on the water was giving me a bad headache. I felt like the smelliest person in the word. I wanted to shower really, really badly. _I wonder how Susan and Lucy expect to shave their legs later? I don't suppose Peter's sword would work? I really should have brought a small dagger. Hmm, I think Lucy has one…maybe she doesn't even shave yet. Wait, did they even DO that during the forties in England? What if I'm acting like an over concerned American freak?_ I glanced around, and everyone was deep in thought and silent. Except for Lucy—she was looking at the gorge walls rising over our heads and admiring the view.

"They're so still," she said sadly.

"They're trees, what'd you expect?" Trumpkin asked gruffly.

"They used to dance," Lucy replied, as if it had been the most beautiful thing in the world.

I dunno. If I walked into a clearing and saw a few trees doing the boogie, I'd probably have a heart attack.

"Can we stop for a minute?" I asked after a time. I'd been trying not to think about it, but, there's no going around it.

"Why?" Peter huffed at the oar.

"I need to use the loo," I imitated his voice—almost to the point of perfection—minus the manliness.

Peter turned red. He resembled one of those funny baked pigs with the apple in its mouth. "Can you wait five minutes?" he asked, blushing. "Trumpkin says we'll be at our stopping point just around the bend."

"Okay," I replied, humming to myself. "_I look once more—just around the river bend! Beyond the shore! Lalalala…"_ I went into a rhythm of 'la's'. That was my defense when I couldn't remember the lyrics.

"So, Susan," I asked, "How exactly does one go about doing their business in the middle of the wilderness?"

Susan flushed too. _Come on, people! It's nature! If we felt embarrassed about it all the time, we'd explode sooner or later. _

Edmund replied briskly, "Well, first thing you do, is find a…"

"I think that's a conversation for another time," Susan interjected, keeping her eyes at the bow. "Mind your manners, Ed."

I sighed and sat back, squinting my eyes against the white blindness of the sun rays bouncing off the water.

Sooner or later, rather later than I wanted but sooner than I supposed, we felt gravel scraping the bottom of the boat. We had come out the gorge to a broad, shallow crossing, and were now pulling onto the rocky shore. Pine trees towered ahead, the dark blue mountains towered even higher, and the beach felt like the Pacific Northwest.

We scrambled out, and I tried to help tie down things. I reached into the boat and thrust my hand into a large coil of rope. Then it was stuck. I wiggled my fingers, but it only became more entangled. I used my other hand to try and figure out how the rope seemed to magically entwine itself around my hand, pulling coils off only to find more.

Ed came up behind me and wordlessly took the whole bundle of rope off of my hand and tossed it aside. Ed glanced at me and grinned evilly, but said nothing of my clumsy blunder.

"Thanks," I muttered.

"Anytime," Edmund said nonchalantly. Suddenly, the rope was back in his hands. Both of us groaned 'un-happenings!' inwardly I'm sure—but neither of us said it out loud. He began untangling the rope just for kicks.

"You've been awfully nice to me," I said matter-of-factly, "Any particular reason why?"

"It's like this," Edmund turned away from his rope-untangling and met my eyes, looking serious and sweet—like my little brother back in my world. _It really is a shame he's missing this. He would have loved it._

"I know what its like being the odd one out," Edmund explained, looking rueful. "And always feeling either left behind or unwanted. It really messes with your head."

"Are you saying I'm the odd one out?" I asked, knowing he probably wasn't.

"No," he replied, "But since I know how it feels I'm making sure it doesn't happen to you. If it can drive one to a point of being a traitor, I'm keeping my eye on you. We've got enough trouble as it is."

"You're saying I'd turn you over to Moosehead?!" I cried.

"Miraz," corrected Susan from the distance.

Edmund growled in frustration. "Oh, stop being a girl and twisting my words around!"

"I am _not _a girl!" I snapped.

Edmund's mouth dropped open and his chin nearly touched the ground.

"Oh, wait—I meant to say…" I cleared my throat, stomped my foot, and tried again; "I am _not _twisting your words!"

"That's better," Edmund went back to untying knots in the rope. "Can't a fellow be nice and not be taken for having ulterior motives?"

"Where I come from, there always is," I replied. "Well…okay, not all the time, but there's so many stupid boys when I come from that I question everything."

"I hope you get over it." He finished untangling the rope and held out an arm length of it, smooth and sturdy.

"Yeah," I said uncomfortably, "Me too. Hey, Ed," I lowered my voice, "Do you still feel like the odd one out?"

Edmund glanced at Peter, who was standing their trying to look important and surveying the landscape. I really wanted to poke him in the abs and see what happened. Maybe he'd deflate—like a balloon. Or he'd pop like the muscle man in the "_Where's Waldo_?" books.

"No," he said in a stony voice.

"Liar," I said flippantly.

He glanced at me. "Let's keep this between ourselves, shall we?"

"Pinky promise," I smiled.

"Why pink?" he asked, disgusted.

"Excuse me?"

"Why not gold, or red?"

"Um," I tried not to laugh. "Okay—golden promise."

"Hello there!" Lucy called, but her voice sounded far away. Edmund and I looked towards her, and she was just over a small rise in the shore. She had her back to us—she was looking at something else.

It was a large, hulking black shape. It made a rough grunt deep in its throat.

"Why, it's Pooh Bear," I grinned. "Winnie the Pooh!" I took a step forward, but Edmund thrust an arm in front of me.

"Don't MOVE, your Majesty!" Trumpkin said very loudly but calmly.

_Oh my freakin' gosh! It's like that old horror movie Night of the Grizzly!_

Lucy turned slowly and met our eyes, her face betraying confusion—and even terror. Suddenly, the bear was hefting its massive muscled body and standing on its hind legs. It took two steps, growling. Then, it was back on all fours.

Lucy began to run.

"Wait, stop!" I shouted. I pulled my sword clumsily out of the sheath and dashed forward, tripping over the skirts. _STUPID DRESS!_

Susan had an arrow stringed to the bow. "Stop, leave her alone!" she shouted.

"Susan, shoot! It's a Mad Pooh!" I screamed. "It doesn't know English!"

The bear was on top of Lucy in a minute—it took four steps to get to her—and I'm sure it would only take one bite to finish her off. Lucy fell to the ground in a heap.

"Lucy!" Peter screamed.

Just as the bear rose to a full height in order to pounce and crush her, an arrow zipped over Lucy's head and into its stomach. The bear roared in a rage and crumpled to the ground.

It was Trumpkin who put down his empty bow calmly and headed for the carcass. _Wow, so it's up to the hobbit to act on things._

Peter was at Lucy's side in a moment, helping her to her feet and pulling her into his arms. His sword was drawn—but as Pooh Gone Mad was now Pooh Be Dead—it didn't seem needed.

"Why didn't you shoot?" I asked Susan dubiously.

"I thought maybe it was a talking Bear," whispered Susan, more to herself than me. "I don't think it could even speak at all!"

"You may find Narnia a more savage place that you remember," Trumpkin said pointedly, casually pulling out a knife and kneeling by the dead bear. "There's a good bit of meat on this bear and best not to be put to waste." There was a silence, and he turned and looked at us. "If they treat you like a dumb animal long enough—that's what you become."

"I was afraid… it may have been an old friend," Susan stuttered.

"No," Trumpkin smiled sadly. "It only wanted the Little Girl for breakfast." And with that, he plunged the knife into the Bear's foreleg and began cutting.

Lucy whimpered and hid her face in Peter's side.

"Um," I hesitated, "What about those survival skills we were going to discuss later, Susan?"

Susan glanced at me sharply. "It's not a Latin exam. Just do it like you'd do it anywhere!"

"Oh!" I said, trying to look like that didn't sting. She is crankier than she appears.

"Don't wonder off too far," Peter advised.

"Well, isn't that the stupidest request I've heard all morning," I grumbled in an Indian accent, heading for the tree line. "I'm not going to New Zealand or anything! I just need to relieve myself! And I want privacy, so you can keep your Sir Highness-ish on shore, thank-you!"

"I didn't understand a word she just said," Peter whispered to Lucy.

"She does have a very thick accent," Lucy agreed, not even mentioning that it was a different one than normal.

"Well, that was an adventure," I said not more than five minutes later. Everyone glanced up with looks both annoyed and embarrassed. I joined Peter's side by the rowboat where he was taking things out of it. Edmund stood on the other side.

"Oh, bother, _bother _un-happenings," he muttered.

I glanced up.

"The rope is tangled again," he held up the rope to prove his point. Not only was it tangled, but it was tied in about a dozen Boy Scout knots too.

"We need to move on," Peter said, handing me my book bag and distributed sticky packages of bear meat wrapped up in very wide leaves.

And so we did.

"_Oooooooooone daaaaaaaaay_," I sang sappily after minutes of walking through dense underbrush.

"What are you singing?" asked Lucy as we tromped along.

"It's your theme song," I replied.

"My theme song?"

"Oh yes," I said, wondering if I should bother explaining.

"How peculiar," Lucy mused, not bothering to ask, so I was saved the trouble.

"You know," I said after another moment or so, "I am missing the premiere of my favorite movie."

"What movie?"

"The next Narnia movie, but I don't know what it's about anymore," I confessed.

"A NARNIA MOVIE?" Lucy stopped in her tracks, and everyone's eyes were suddenly on me.

"Um, just…kidding?" I tried.

Lucy sighed and everyone else was suddenly focused on the small trail before us. The trail led through scratchy ferns and red dirt under a thick canopy of green sunshine.

"Does any one want to play a game?" I asked.

"Not really," said Trumpkin.

"I spy something—short and cranky!" I laughed.

"Pippin," Peter and Susan said at the same time.

I stopped laughing. "Hey, not funny."

"I like this game," Trumpkin added.

"You didn't want to play. You're out," I fumed.

"I spy something large and gray," Edmund called.

"A hair that just popped out on Peter's head?" I suggested.

"No," Edmund said soberly, "A large gray rock blocking our path."

And so he was right. Small hills and little cliffs were jutting out all over the place, making me feel like I was getting crammed into the mazes of Emyn Muil from Lord of the Rings. I expected Gimli to come running out at any time and hug Trumpkin—perhaps his long lost brother.

We sighed glumly and had to bear farther south than we wanted to. I had the sinking feeling that we were lost now, becoming lost, going to be lost later, or that we've been lost for the past few hours and didn't know it.

"Let's face it, Mr. Frodo, we're lost," I said, wishing I could quote from the story I was in—but I couldn't remember it—and I couldn't even recall the title anymore. The book inside my bag was not only blank inside but had a pure brown cover as well.

In fact, I decided to start keeping a journal inside.

"Who are you talking to?" Peter asked, a hand on his sword hilt.

"Don't loose your temper, fancy pants, I'm talking to myself. It happens sometimes when everyone else is boring."

And for punishment, I received another two hours of complete and utter silence—whilst I randomly quoted to try and entertain myself.

"You'd best start believing in ghost stories Miss Turner—you're in one!"

"Parley?"

"That's the one! Parley!"

"A red sun rises—blood has been spilt this night."

"Engage into hyper space."

"Mr. Spock—weapons please."

"He's dead Jim!"

"We put the canons on Bootstrap's bootstraps!"

"May the Force be with you."

"I agree—bad idea."

"I have a bad feeling about this."

"Remember—with great power—comes great responsibility."

"Men are like cats; feed them, pet them, admire them, and they'll purr."

"I'm not very good with facial cues!"

"Fool of a Took! Throw yourself in next time and rid us of your stupidity."

"_I've been dreaming of true loves kiss…_"

"When in doubt, Meriadoc, always follow your nose."

"You're one of the worst pirates I've ever heard of."

"But you HAVE heard of me."

"Well Jones—at least you haven't forgotten how to show a lady a good time!"

"Save me."

"What?"

"SAVE ME!"

"Helloooooo…I'm Doctor Van…"

"Wahahaha, Billy Bones, its me…Blind Peeeew!"

And even after ten minutes of this, I drove myself into annoyance with the world, the Pevensies, the bearded hobbit, myself, and a random crow that kept cawing. I shut up and walked in silence like the rest of them.

_Stay tuned folks. Something cool might happen soon. Don't bet on anything too exciting though. Unless you count traveling really excited. Maybe you do. _

"Hold on a second!" I called after a bit. "I need to go to the bathroom again!"

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**Read and review my little people! Sorry, I'm so addicted to this story I'm been doing quantity instead of quality—I'm going to work on my finals now so the next chapter will be much better—I can assure you.**

**Welcome to all new reviewers!**

**Bye for now,**

**Pip**


	5. Lonely

**Dear Reviewers,**

**Do not worry! I will not abandon the "Return to Narnia". I had to take a little break from **_**return**_** because I needed access to the movie dialogue, which I couldn't get. And now, due to some very illegal people on the Internet and my personal hacking skills, (lol not really! I just found a link!) I have access to the movie so I can mix the book and movie efficiently now. I have two more weeks of crazy ish, and then I am finished with high school FOREVER! And then both stories will be updated simultaneously. I could update this one easier because I don't have to remember ALL the details, since a Fall-In-Girl screws up most details anyhow! ****:-)**

**Thanks for all of your delightful reviews. I have NEVER, EVER had these many reviews for just four chapters. The sheer numbers have me in a slight vegetable state most of the day. Mostly, I'm just shocked by the support, and I can never thank-you enough. (But that doesn't mean I won't try!) **

**Thank-you thank-you thank-you!**

**God Bless,**

**Pip**

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**Chapter Five, Lonely**

"We've been walking for hours," I said, panting like a dog. _Wow…I'm panting like a dog, what a concept. You know, the black Labrador that gets eaten by JAWS…in the film JAWS… is named Pippin. I'm a Pippin, too. Does that make me appetizing to marine wildlife? I wonder…_

"Do you have any sharks around here?" I questioned, seeing it as perfectly normal to ask. "Well, I mean, not in the forest, exactly…but at the beach. Well, not at the beach, either, but in the ocean—next to the beach—where it's blue. And wet."

"We had a shark problem once," Susan said, "During the golden years. We had a few mermen turn up half dead and we had to send out some warriors to take care of it. He was a big brute."

"What did you name him?" I asked, suddenly excited.

"Who?"

"The shark!"

"We didn't name him," Peter cried, abashed. "It wasn't a pet—nor a talking animal."

"Okay," I said, disappointed. Then I brightened up. "Well, its okay, Quint, Brody, and Harper didn't name Jaws—well, Jaws—either."

They all shook their heads.

Lucy's shrill voice interrupted my shark reverie (I have a rather large fascination with the Great White Shark) and snapped up everyone else's' attention.

"Oh, trees," she said in frustration, "Why are you so dead?"

Susan took her hand. "It's okay, Lou. It's all right. They're not dead—they are only sleeping."

I shrugged, a little disconcerted. I still had a rather nightmarish vision of trees doing the boogie—and joining them now—was a cha-cha line, some doing the Charleston, and a couple of young ones trying to do the salsa…

"I don't understand," Lou muttered, "How could Aslan have let this happen?"

"Aslan?" Trumpkin interjected. "Hmph. He disappeared after you young ones did—if he ever existed at all!"

His voice betraying a deep remorse, Peter said softly, "We didn't mean to leave, you know…"

"Doesn't matter anyway," Trumpkin said gruffly.

"When we get to the Narnians, it will," Peter looked up at the sky, as if waiting for celestial lightening to strike him in the face and tell him how to handle the Narnians if they were feeling abandoned.

"I don't think it will," I said, trying to be helpful and comfort my new friends (I considered them my friends now even if they didn't) "It's so many generations later. All the people whom you left behind were probably worried sick, not _angry_. They probably passed down stories of your valor and mysterious disappearance to their children, not how upset they were you weren't around to be kingly."

Peter winced as if this hurt him. He said nothing. In fact, no one did.

Embarrassed, and wondering if I said something wrong, I shut myself up and walked without complaining for a long time.

After some time, chatter resumed again among the siblings. I felt more like an outsider than ever.

"I don't remember this place!" Susan whined, climbing down a rocky ravine into a wide trench, where we all gathered in the living-room sized valley between large boulders.

"That's the trouble with girls," Peter said, smirking, "Can't carry a map in their heads."

"That's because our heads have something in them," Lucy said quirkily, looking smug for the burn.

"Ooooh, yeah, and it's called a brain." I chortled, enjoying her joke. "Gah, Luc, you are so witty! I love it! Hey, boys, would you like some ice for that BURN??"

No one paid any attention to me—unless the mutterings under their breath and the giggles count—then we came to a where the path began going downhill.

"It's got to be this way," Peter said to himself, leading us deeper into the ravine.

"I don't suppose…" began Trumpkin, but Peter paid him no heed.

"Why don't you just listen to the DLF?" Lucy called ahead to Peter.

"DLF?" Susan asked, smiling at her younger sister.

"Dear Little Friend," Lucy looked back at Trumpkin with an impish smile.

"Oooooh," said Trumpkin, as if something suddenly dawned on him. I brought up the rear of the line and noted a look of sympathy between Edmund and him. "That's not at all patronizing, is it?" Trumpkin said to Edmund.

I shook my head. "It's better than what I'm called back at home."

"What are you called?" Trumpkin asked, not sounding polite, but purely interested.

"Shortstop," I replied, "That's a position in a game called baseball. Um, hobbit is another. A hobbit is basically a short furry dwarf without a beard who loves food and has a knack for getting in trouble from Fairy Stories."

Trumpkin laughed.

"And I've also been called freak, weirdo, odd person, scary…" I laughed. "Those aren't the nice ones though. And they are generally called by not very nice people."

Trumpkin didn't answer, instead, we were all tuning in to Peter talking to himself. Again.

"There's got to be a crossing nearby," Peter mused. "I'm not lost!"

"No," said Trumpkin, pulling ahead and leaping to the ravine floor. "You're just going the wrong way."

"But there's a crossing," Peter said stubbornly.

"YES, but unless I'm mistaken, there is no crossing in THESE parts," Trumpkin said pointedly, his eyes narrowed.

"That explains it," Peter said, his jaw clenched between words, "You're mistaken."

There was a very awkward silence for a time before we got ourselves out of the stupid ravine. We continued on its edge until we reached where the trees seemed to be father apart and letting in more sunlight. I carried on a quicker pace until I was near the front of the line. I was afraid of behind stuck in the back if something exciting happened.

I didn't understand Peter's attitude—I mean, sure, he was High King—but Trumpkin knows the Narnia of today. It was not the same Narnia 1,300 years ago (Trumpkin gave us the exact time).

Suddenly, Peter gave a little gasp and stopped. Everyone else stopped too.

I tried to stop, I honestly did. I could see that there was a sudden drop off just beyond Peter's feet, probably more than 100 feet that led to a raging river.

But when I tried to stop, a stone appeared just under the toes of my left foot and threw me forward, knocking into Peter and falling to my hands and knees on the ground. Peter would have fallen, and died, if Susan hadn't reached out, grabbed his hand, and gave a little jerk. It pulled him back just enough for him to fall on his butt and gasp with his life, most likely, flashing before his eyes.

"What were you DOING?" he said angrily to me, panting with the shock. I could almost hear his heart thumping in fright.

"I, I tripped," I stuttered, "I tend to do that a lot. I'm so, so sorry."

"Tripped on WHAT?" Peter said, incredulous, and still red-faced with anger.

"Peter…" warned Susan.

"That rock!" I scrambled to my feet and pointed, but there was nothing there. "No, wait," I said, looking about wildly, "It really was there. Right there."

"What?" Peter said mockingly. "Did you lose your evidence in case you didn't succeed in trying to KILL me?"

"I swear," I said, becoming angry myself. "There was a rock right there. I must have kicked it out from beneath my foot when I fell. You don't have any reason not to believe me."

"Except there is nothing there!" Peter stood to his feet, too. Everyone else looked on in an uncomfortable silence.

"If I wanted to kill you," I put my hands on my hips, "I would have stabbed you in your sleep before we ever got this far! Or maybe I could have just waited for you to kill yourself with your own stupidity."

Peter's eyes widened with rage.

"Pippin," Lucy tried, always being the peacemaker.

"Okay, sorry," I said, raising my hands as if in surrender. "Me accusing him of being the typical human boy isn't as bad as him accusing me of attempted murder!"

"Maybe I ought not to have been so rash," Peter began to backtrack.

"Too late, Einstein, the damage is done, why don't you go have a pity party?" I barked, knowing my temper was as lost as it ever had been_. I guess I should have warned them all about my terrible temper. I know it's a stereotype, but I believe it comes from my Irish blood._ _Who knows?_

There was a brief silence.

"I'm sorry," Peter said softly. "It was wrong for me to attack you like that."

"I'm pretty sure there WAS a rock there, Pete," Edmund added. "I don't want to interfere but she wasn't just making things up."

I looked gratefully at him. So far, he was the only one who could see un-happenings—well, happen—and I hoped he was going to help me out.

Everyone turned away from me and examined the much larger problem that lay before us than our petty differences.

"I see what happened," said Susan, "Over time, the river erodes away the soil and it causes a…"

"Oh, shutup!" Peter interjected.

"Oh, first Trumpkin, then Pippin, and now me," Susan said loftily, "Is Edmund next for a verbal lashing? Is Lucy going to be let off the hook because she's younger?"

"I'm SORRY!" Peter cried in frustration. "I've been doing it all day, and I can't stand being with myself! I just don't know what to do, and I don't like admitting it. Bear with me…I can't focus, I can't lead, and I can't cross a 100 foot gorge. Give me a second. I'm sorry for snapping, Susan. Isn't there another way down?"

"Yeah, falling," Trumpkin said, not even attempting to be sarcastic, just sadly truthful in a depressing sort of way.

"I can assure you, falling will not be a problem," I muttered, displeased with myself and hoping I could fix this obvious physical flaw.

"There's another crossing by Beruna," Trumpkin said gently, "Why don't we try there?"

"Yes, let's," Peter agreed, his shoulders sagging. We all turned to walk away from the frightening cliff edge that seemed to pull at you whether you were afraid of heights or not. _Did Peter think that episode didn't scare me too? He wasn't the only one who thought he was going to die from a terrible fall just then._

"Is it?" Lucy murmured, staying by the edge. "Aslan! Aslan!"

"What?" everyone cried, turning about again.

"I've seen Aslan!" she looked at us, with a complete goldenness shining from her face. _Dude, it's like Moses coming down from the mountain! She's seen, like, the God of Narnia. Heck yes!_

"He was right…" Lucy's face fell as she pointed to the opposite side of the river, where there was nothing. "…there." It was emptiness.

"Do you see him NOW?" Trumpkin asked, trying not to show that he disagreed with anything that had to do with magical lions. Maybe he has the same thing for Magic Lions that I do for Boogying trees.

"He WAS there," Lucy said stubbornly. "Right there."

"Are you sure it was Aslan?" asked Susan.

"I think I know Aslan when I see him," Lucy argued.

"Would he be a pretty elderly lion by now?" Trumpkin urged, not really believing he existed at all. His argument should have been vetoed from the start.

"And I'm sure there is any number of lions in these woods," Peter added. "Just like that bear."

"Is Aslan even comparable to a normal lion?" I piped up, not really caring if he hated me. I wanted to put something in for Lucy's sake.

"But why wouldn't I have seen him?" Peter pressed on, looking hurt.

"Maybe you weren't looking," Lucy said simply.

"Let's put it to a vote," Susan said, with a glance at me. "Upriver?"

"Or down to almost certain death following the person we owe our lives to?" I added, pleased the idea of dying for a noble Lion. _How perfectly thrilling. That would be a climax people would be interested in…_

"You know," Edmund said, looking at each sibling full in the face, "Last time I didn't believe Lucy, I winded up looking pretty stupid."

There was a silence, and each person contemplated the process—but most likely not the consequences.

"I vote up," Peter said, "I'm sorry Lou. Its just…I didn't see him."

"I vote up," said Trumpkin as well.

"As do I," Susan nodded and they all began to walk away.

"You're all wrong," Lucy whispered, beginning to follow.

"You didn't vote, Pippin," said Edmund, putting a comforting arm around Lucy's trembling shoulders. She was crying softly.

"I'm not voting," I said, picturing (when I read LWW) the noble and beautiful Aslan from my imagination. In my minds' eye, I saw the most perfect and safe—but terrible and not tame—Lion, whom I hoped had a darn good reason for throwing me in here and wasting my four dollars for my Dr. Pepper.

"I'm with Aslan," I said, "I'm staying here. You'll be back!" I felt slightly hysterical. "I'll just…wait here. You'll see. I bet Lucy was right."

"We can't leave you here, alone, with wild beasts and Telmarines possibly…"

"Are you saying Aslan can't do a good job protecting me?" I mocked. "That IS too bad."

The other siblings were disappearing from sight. Lucy took one look at Edmund and I, then she followed them, looking horribly dejected.

"I'm not assuming anything," Edmund said carefully, "But as King, I can't let a maiden be alone…"

"Oh, go be a chimpanzee alpha male with all the King crap," I said, "I can take care of myself. Hurry up—before you get lost trying to find your family."

Edmund looked towards the forest, and back at me.

"Oh, blast stubborn girls till kingdom come!" he cursed, looking torn. "Aslan," he added silently, "Protect her Royal Stupidness and forgive me if I'm doing wrong…" he waved sadly. "I'm trusting you not to die."

"Hopefully, I won't."

"Goodbye," Edmund scampered away…and within a moment…was gone.

I was all alone in a quiet forest. The birds sang so softly that it seemed they were afraid of being too loud. The river rushed in a distant roar hundreds of feet below. The grass waved in a breeze.

It was slightly creepy.

In order to cure myself of freaking myself out with memories from films that involved murderers, Bigfoot, and ewoks on _something_…

I burst into song.

"_Mama…I just killed a man…put a gun up to his head, pulled the trigger, now he's dead." _I twirled and stared into the white froth of the raging river below._ "Mama…life had just begun…and now I've gone and thrown it all away! Mama! Ooohooohoo! Didn't mean to make you cry…"_

Suddenly, a twig snapped. I sat down in surprise, hugged my knees, and began to feel frightened. _Was that stupid of me, or what? I sent the dudes with sword training away. But I couldn't have gone with them! That was right, wasn't it? I mean, Aslan is like…God, ya know. You don't just hear about an obvious "Come, follow me, little munchkins" vision and then NOT do it._ _Or don't you?_

I keeled over to my side and I laid my head on the soft mossy carpet and began humming softly. "_Genovia…the land I call my home…Genovia, Genovia! May long your banner reign!_ Er, wait_…may your banner always wave! _Um, no_…may your hair never become gray! _Definitely not!"

It had most likely been a few years since I'd watched that movie, so I wasn't too sure of the lyrics. Not like it mattered much anyway.

I fell asleep for an hour (or so I guessed, the lighting hadn't changed too much,) and woke up, still alone. It is terribly lonely waking up completely alone, especially if you were alone when you fell asleep, and it is lonelier still if you realize that you don't like being lonely when loneliness had been an option in the first place.

I began singing again. "_Lonely, I'm so lonely, I have nobody…for my own…AHH!" _I missed the high note at the end and cringed. Oh well, no one heard it anyhow.

Suddenly, there was a rustle in the bushes some distance into the forest. My heart leapt in my throat and I suddenly felt sick. Gosh, it was scarier here… than… an alley in Roserito, Mexico—when the car broke down and my youth group was standing by a couple clearly stuffing something illegal under their suburban seats—and then changing their license plates afterwards. It was definitely scarier than that.

I pulled my small sword from my sheath, the sounds of something large moving through the underbrush behind the incline coming closer. I wanted to cry, but I didn't. I just made a queer sound in my throat that could have been mistaken for hyperventilating, or just a really bad frog impression.

I turned my head and looked back down at the river, which I now had my back to. _Oh that's nice. I'm cornered. I'm about to become dinner. Would I be better salted or with ketchup?_

It—whatever IT was—came up the hill.

"TROOOOOOGDOOOOOR!" I gave a fairly decent battle cry and charged.

"Whoa, now, missy, it's just me!" Trumpkin came over the crest of the hill, holding out his hands like a Disney John Smith. He stared at my sword. "How…how are you?"

"Oh, _wingapo_," I snapped, trying to get my sword back in my sheath. It didn't slide in nicely like in the movies. It took four tries of nearly slicing my hand off. "I'm fine—er, as well as could be expected—being left alone to wait for Aslan to show up again and let me know if I'm doing the right thing."

Trumpkin just shrugged this off and called back into the forest. "She is still here!"

"So," I ventured as he moved past me, "Did you guys find a crossing?"

"Found it, all right," said Trumpkin, "But…oh, cucumbers and cutting boards! Those dratted Telmarines have camped there. A few scouts spotted us and tried to finish us off, but we got away. And they didn't pursue us, neither. So we're back to where we started."

"Oh, whale spouts and washing machines," I cursed, mimicking Trumpkin.

Then, the Pevensies showed up. Lucy looked elated, Edmund looked interested, Susan looked doubtful, and Peter looked disappointed. (I thought I might as well tell you how they all looked, as I've got nothing better to do.)

"Hey," I greeted, excited to see human teenager faces. "Don't tell me. Trumpkin told me. I'm just glad you guys are okay. You guys ARE okay?"

"Yes, yes, we're fine," Lucy said distractedly.

A squirrel began screeching at us from the trees. Lucy ran for the edge, looking at the opposite shore intently.

"Little girl?" I said, sounding uncommonly like a female version of Willy Wonka. "Don't touch the squirrel!"

Lucy just shook her head at me, grinning. "I'm not touching the squirrel, I'm looking for Aslan."

"Okay," Peter said, "Where exactly did you say you saw him?"

Lucy took two steps to the right. "It was right over—" there was a horrid scream of terror, and Lucy dropped from the edge as a bit of earth gave way beneath her.

I'm pretty sure every single one of us screamed her name in horror, thinking she died. And broke every bone in her body, likely as not. I think I was sounding like a Marsh-wiggle, but I couldn't rightly be sure. I didn't remember any books beyond the one I'd ended up in. In fact, I didn't even think I was stuck in a book any more. I was beginning to wonder which was the book—the land of dancing trees and bearded hobbits, or the land of cars and libraries and carbonated drinks?

"…here," Lucy finished her sentence shakily.

I couldn't see her, there was a bit of crowd as you can imagine, but I heard her speak to an anxious Peter looking over the cliff edge. I felt relief course through me and hoped I was safe in assuming that she was not dead. Unless her ghost was back already. Which would have been awfully quick, even for a ghost.

Everyone was slightly stunned—there had been a path, hidden all along—and waiting for us ever since the vision of Aslan was there to point the way. I felt silly for having not examined the cliff edge while waiting for them, but in the end, it was much better. I would not have been able to go down the path alone anyhow. Plus, I wouldn't have known where to go without them once I reached the other side!

After assuring them that she was alright, Lucy began leading the way down the path. Wordlessly, I followed.

Now, for my power as an authoress. I am not going to cover the next part of the journey. Let me give you my reasons:

There was no dialogue. No one wanted to ask what I had been doing while waiting for them (I can understand why), and no one wanted to speak anyway for fear of bursting into tears for the awful fright Lucy gave them. It is a terrible thing to witness your sister plummeting to her death, even if she didn't die after all. It had the same effect.

The climb down the gorge frightened me so badly I let out a shrill, deafening screech every time I took a step. Which was a lot. No one wanted to say anything—but everyone, at least once—helped me by taking my hand at some point. It was comforting, but it did not cure my relentless phobia of heights. I think I have a new one, too…hydrophobia—the fear of water.

If you found the sights we saw interesting, I would spend a paragraph on each. But since I'm pretty sure you don't find species of elm, a frightened flock of birds, a pair of fighting spiders and the color of the dirt we tread upon...I won't even bother. I'll save my most fantastic of adjectives for when something truly significant happens, and then I'll get as Tolkienish as you want!

Let us move on, to the most interesting part of that last day. Drumroll, please.

_We're about a mile, roughly, away from Caspian's camp. We'll be meeting Mr. Prince very, very soon! _

"I am so excited, I could burst," I told the dwarf and Pevensies as we unrolled our blankets (we couldn't bring along our tapestry mattresses. Only the small blankets were thin enough to be rolled and carried—or, lucky for me—tucked in my book bag).

"Excited for what?" asked Lucy.

"Meeting Caspian, duh!" I exclaimed. "He sounds so…cool."

They all glanced at eachother.

"What I mean is, he sounds like a very nice person," I edited my first statement. I had forgotten that words like 'cool' weren't even used like that yet.

They all nodded in recognition.

"It's a warm night," Peter said as I unrolled my blanket, "You probably won't need that."

"Then why is she building a fire?" I asked, pointing at Susan.

"It keeps away wild animals," Peter explained.

"Although, if one really wanted to get us, a little fire wouldn't do too much good," Edmund added.

"Hush, you'll frighten the girls," Peter said.

"Which one?" Edmund asked. Peter glanced at my now very wide-open eyes, and back at his sisters, who carried on as if not noticing.

"Never mind," he said.

We had a light dinner of bear meat wrapped in those darn apples and drinks of water from a nearby spring. Then, one by one, we dropped off to sleep…

Well, at least they did.

Something kept me wide awake.

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**Don't worry this isn't a cliff hanger, I promise. Its nothing scary. This is my longest chapter up to date—eight stinkin pages! That's to keep you tided over till this weekend…hopefully (depending on how finals go! I may be working my but off this weekend!)**


	6. Casssspian and Happy Thoughts

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Dear Reviewers,

**Hey! You guys are so amazing. Your reviews are the sunshine in my life now because things have been rough for me lately. This Narnia fic has been my escape and you guys are the portal to get there. **

**Thanks for being so supportive of my writing!**

**Pippin**

**PS: and thanks for the prayers too. FINALS ARE OVER!! Friar Jerome, you'd better start typing! **

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**Answers to Questions:**

**Yes, the Mexico story really did happen—in March of this year, actually. But there's more. While we were stranded there, four men dressed in flowy white blouses, wearing ginormous black (with sparkles) sombreros, and carrying guitars walked by. I began screaming with excitement, "JUGE UN CANCION!" (Play a song!!) But, they only stared at me with odd expressions before moving on. ****I had the '3 amigos' song stuck in my head for a good twenty minutes after that. **

**I will not be paired with Peter or Edmund. This is a non-Mary-Sue. The only way I would EVER do a Mary Sue is if that's what the reviewers want. This story is for them, so…call me a people pleaser. It would have to be a majority vote for romance to happen…but I think we'll leave it to Susan. **

**Yep. Pippin is me. I am Pippin. Pippin is I, and I am Me, and Me is Pippin. Me is I and I is Pippin who is also Me and I. Goodness, it is very tiresome to be all sorts of people…**

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**Disclaimer/Request for HELP: **

**I do not have access to movie dialogue from this point on—my superb hacking skills cannot conquer its newest obstacle—so I will be…making it up! **

**If you guys can remember how dialogue during certain scenes go, feel free to PM the script to me of what you can remember. In fact, if you have access to this kind of knowledge at all, help me??**

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**Chapter Six, Casssspian and Happy Thoughts**

I lay in a slight stupor, gazing at the expanse of sky over my head. The stars were so large, bright, and luminous that I couldn't fathom them being made out of burning balls of gas. In fact, I could imagine them being like thousands of blinking eyes—not cold pin-points like in my old world—that gave out warmth and comfort. There were a few planets, too…or maybe just large stars…a large orange one seemed to back away from Narnia minute by minutes until it was an orange dot. A green one made a slow arch across the bowl of the dark blue galaxy.

I was mesmerized by this shock, a nature system so abnormal and beautiful in comparison to what I was used to. It kept me awake for as long as I could keep my eyes open. The boys were snoring lightly, and the dwarf lay still—but by the lack of depth in his breathing, I was sure he had stayed awake or had just woken up.

"Lucy, are you awake?" Susan broke the silence with a tiny whisper.

"Mmhm," Lucy hummed softly.

I tried to stay awake and eavesdrop, but I could almost imagine Aslan himself tsking at my childishness. So I forced myself to close out the incredible night sky and drift into a warm slumber, watched over by a thousand glowing, peaceful eyes.

I woke up blinking stupidly in a gray light. It looked like it was going to rain, and all the stars I'd admired so worshipfully were hidden behind a musty blanket. Something stirred—I lifted my head and glanced around. Everyone was more or less doing what they were the night before—sleeping.

Except Lucy.

She was already halfway towards the end of the clearing, where a tiny path wound its way up an incline and out of sight into the forest. She was wandering off, alone…by herself…with no one around…have we covered the fact there wasn't any other people with her? We have? Sorry.

"Luc-_EEE!_" I hissed, hoping she'd rethink this foolishness.

_The bear only wanted the little girl for breakfast; _I recalled Trumpkin's rather ominous words from our first fright.

Lucy did not hear me.

She disappeared into the forest, and I waited for only forty-five seconds…I counted…but she did not return. And she did not go 'use the loo' in the thicket that we dubbed 'the loo thicket', because that was in the other direction.

Nope, she was going somewhere else with something else on her mind.

I rolled over the damp grass to Peter until I was close enough to poke him.

_Gah, you are sooo cute, _I thought fan girlishly, and then I quickly shoved the thoughts aside. _Wow, I am a girly freak. Shut up, you Fool of a Took…even though I'm a Baggins…ah well. To continue. _

I poked Peter. "Dude!" I said in a near whisper.

"Hmph?" Peter mumbled, opening his eyes and blinking at me owlishly.

"Your precarious sister has squandered her life in the deadly gamble of wandering alone in treacherous woods," I tried to sound as Narnian as possible, and with a British accent, too. "May I make the recommendation that you put your knightly skills to use and conduct a search and rescue for her?"

With a flash, suddenly Peter was up, throwing on his boots, and hollering, "Everyone up! Everybody get up! Ed, look here!"

Everyone sat up like they suffered from a Hollywood nightmare. (I've done that before. Waking up with a sudden fear and realizing you've shot out of bed into a sitting position is very rare but it is very exciting.)

"Lucy's disappeared," Peter picked up his blanket and tossed it to Ed. "Trumpkin, follow my tracks. You saw her leave, Pippin? How long has she been gone?"

"Exactly one minute, or close enough," I muttered.

"Lead the way, Susan can grab your things," Peter said.

"Oh! Okay!" I said in surprise, wondering why he did not jump in and take charge as usual. Or perhaps be was, but he was acknowledging my help. _He'd run off in the wrong direction anyway. _

"She followed this little itsy bitsy path," I said as I slipped on my converse (without bothering to tie them) and took off. Peter was a close step behind me.

The path led us over the little hill and down into a ravine between a large boulder and many baby boulders. The path disappeared into a small, dreamy grove of little birch trees.

"The trail is gone," I said despairingly, "She's YOUR sister. Where would she have gone?"

"Straight ahead," Peter said softly, "Always straight ahead."

So, I went straight ahead. There was a second hill—and a familiar brown head of shoulder-length hair—

Just then, we heard a deep rumbling growl.

"Get down," Peter hissed. I saw something move just beyond the trees—dangerously close to Lucy.

I dropped to my knees and Peter rushed up the steep grass to Lucy.

"Aslan?" she called in a hopeful voice, just as Peter clapped a hand over her mouth and pulled her behind a bush. Lucy gasped with fright.

I glanced up and saw a huge monster walking away from where Peter and Lucy were hiding. It was probably about seven feet tall, with a body like a man but with long hair. It wore armor that looked like it could weigh hundreds of pounds. What surprised me most was that it had the head of a ginormous bull with huge horns protruding from either side. _Good lord, it's a Minotaur. _

Peter motioned for me to come up the hill and take Lucy. He put a finger to his lips to tell Lucy to hush, drew his sword, and came out from his hiding place. I skittered up the hill and knelt with Lucy behind the bush, putting an arm around her.

Holding our breath, we watched Peter advance sneakily behind the huge Minotaur, his sword poised and ready. Suddenly, frightening me so badly my heart felt like it popped and went out, a young man leaped from adjacent bushes and attacked Peter. With a cry, they were sword fighting with such strength and ferocity and I wondered why they did not just accidentally kill each other that very moment.

Their swords clanged noisily in the still morning, both of them crying out in exertion. Peter appeared to be having an advantage and was moving the other dude backwards, his blows heavy. The Dude's sword was knocked from his hand. Seeing the weakness (lack of weapon may have helped too) Peter swung too hard, the Other Person ducked, and Peter's sword embedded itself in a tree. The dude kicked Peter in the side and knocked him down. He then proceeded to pull Peter's sword from the tree to use it against him.

Suddenly, several things happened at once. Lucy and I noticed that there were creatures popping out all over the forest—badgers, dwarves, fauns, minotaurs, centaurs, satyrs, dogs, wolves—too many to count! Secondly, Peter grasped a rock on the ground and intended to use it as a weapon, though the Other Dude was coming down on his fast with Peter's bright-edged sword. Thirdly, Lucy jumped away from me—and despite an attempt to catch her—came out of hiding and screamed

"No! Stop!"

Peter paused in mid-throw and Bob (let's just call him Bob, shall we? I'm sick of 'other dude') ceased fighting and breathed hard. Bob stared at Lucy in surprise and Peter suddenly realized he had an audience of all creatures great and small.

Well, how obvious. _They were Narnians, of course. How silly of us._ Bob waited for someone to say something, looking rather perplexed himself. He wasn't any taller than Peter really, with a pale olive complexion and dark features—like hair and eyes. By any accounts, he was what one called 'hot' or 'sexy'. But for some reason, I did not think of either of these. I just thought to myself, _Ooooh boy…that's a Prince if I ever did see one…what a fine mess we've got ourselves in, Mr. Frodo…_

"Prince…_Caspian_?" Peter said in disbelief, recognition dawning on him.

"Yes," Bob said, in the most interesting Spanish-like accent I'd ever heard. "And who are YOU?" I began contemplating how I might be able to imitate THIS one.

Peter opened his mouth to reply, when suddenly Susan interrupted with a scolding "Peter!!" as she came up the hill. Trumpkin and Edmund followed with swords drawn.

"Ah, there you are," I said, popping out among them from behind my bush. "I thought you'd never showed up. You just missed Peter and Catsman fighting for their lives…"

Bob, or…Caspian, I suppose…looked down at Peter's sword he held in his hands. He obviously recognized the famous engraving on the blade and the peculiar markings of the hilt. He looked up and met Peter's steady gaze.

"High King Peter," he said respectfully and in awe.

"I believe you called," Peter said pointedly.

"Well, yes, but," Caspian looked at Edmund, Lucy, and I. "You're not exactly what I expected." He locked eyes with Susan, and things became awkward very quickly.

"Hey, lets keep it PG, people," I interjected.

Caspian finally broke his goo-goo gaze and looked at me. "Well, if you are the Kings and Queens of old, then who is this?" he pointed to me.

"Their bodyguard?" said Trumpkin questionably, looking to me, since I had told him that on the beach.

"Their gardener," I corrected, quoting Sam in the Two-Towers simply because I could. As was the Pevensies used to my antics by now, the change in occupation did not faze them a bit. Caspian did look confused though.

"You're not exactly what we expected either," Edmund added, his eyebrows knotted together as if wanting to scold someone…badly. He looked at the Minotaur, who stood off the to side gripping his five foot weapon with a mace thing at the end of it. I suddenly had a vague memory of Edmund not having nice dealings with Minotaurs in their first adventure.

"Well, no, um," Caspian stuttered, "I supposed, being out of the ancient past, you'd be…older…"

Peter looked like a jock. "Well, if you like, we can come back in a few years." _Ooooh, like Troy Bolton gone baaaad._

"No, no," Caspian cried hastily.

"We have AXIOUSLY awaited your return, my liege!" cried a voice from the ground.

I looked down to the voice and found, to my delight, a Talking Mouse, nearly two feet tall (considerably shorter than me). He was a dark brown and carried a rapier (that's a type of sword, I know _that _much) and wore a gold circlet about one ear that sported a purply feather.

"My people and I pledge our swords to your Majesties," said the mouse regally, "I am Reepicheep, the Chief Mouse."

"Oh my gosh, he's so cute!" whispered Lucy to Susan.

"WHO SAID THAT?" cried Reepicheep, drawing his sword quicker than lightening. He looked around the clearing suspiciously.

"Oh, sorry," apologized Lucy worriedly.

"Ah, your Majesty," said Reepicheep, surprised, but cordial, "I think that courteous, loyal, and chivalrous might better describe a Knight of Narnia." He sheathed his rapier elegantly. If only I could do THAT…

"Well, at least we know some of you can handle a sword," Peter said appreciatively. He seemed grateful enough. "Because we're going to need every sword we can get."

Caspian's lip curled as if he was trying his best to withhold any dislike for the sovereignty. "Well," he said curtly, "You'll probably be wanting yours back." He handed the hilt to Peter.

"Wow," I said, "Why don't you just jump up and down and chant 'na na na na na I beat you'?"

They both looked at me.

"Can you behave yourself, Pippin?" Peter hissed. "Its like having guests over. You have to have SOME dignity. Haven't you ever entertained guests at home?"

"Never any popinjays like you," I retaliated, grinning.

His face went from miffed to PO'd.

"Okay, okay, sorry," I said. "That was rude of me. I was just kidding. I did that a lot at home where—well, my friends and me would get into verbal wars for fun. I have to be careful about that here."

"The girl has a sharp tongue," commented Reepicheep, "Is your sword any sharper, my Lady? It would honor me if you'd give me a round sometime, but alas, it is not very decent for a gentleman to ask it of a woman…"

"I don't mind it if a male asks me to fight. I'm a tomboy anyway," I confessed, "But, I'm afraid you'd have to give me lessons first…"

"Someone _ought_ to teach her a lesson," grumbled Peter.

"Oh, Peter, buck up," Susan scolded. Caspian gave her a shy smile. "Don't mind him," Susan put a kind hand on Peter's shoulder and spoke to Caspian, not me: "He's under a lot of stress, as you can imagine."

"Well, perhaps I can help alleviate that," Caspian said warmly. "Why don't we discuss strategy? We've just packed up camp and were on the verge of moving to Aslan's How when you arrived."

"Aslan's How?" I asked. "What's that?"

Caspian replied eagerly, "It is a very important place for the Narnians historically. I have never been there myself, you understand. We shall soon see."

Peter and Caspian quickly began moving off. Trumpkin gave us a wink and a nod and began giving orders to move out.

_Whoa, look! A tree! Well, lots of tree, but THAT tree! That is what I call a TREE! That's like, the tree of trees. I shall condone a climbing expedition._

The branches were sticky with sap in some places, but close enough together so I could get higher and higher without any problem. But I didn't go any higher than ten feet—as I was still afraid of heights.

Susan glanced over from where her and Lucy stood. Lucy was chatting comfortably with a pair of fauns that came up to her, bowed, and wanted to know all about her. Susan looked out of place and kept searching the crowd. Caspian's head suddenly popped out over several moving bodies and she smiled discreetly.

"Why Susan," I called down to her, "Anything you'd like to share?"

"Not really," she said stiffly. She glanced up into the tree. "What in HEAVEN'S name are you doing up there?"

"Getting a look around," I said, holding my arms in the air. "Looky what I can do!"

"You are such a child," Susan said accusingly.

"I am not a child, I am older than you are," I snapped. "If having fun makes me a child, then the world would be better off if others felt a little childlike once in a while. At least I'm not always trying to act grown up, bore my siblings to tears, and make eyes at an unavailable Prince."

Susan turned red with anger. "You forget your place, Pippin."

"What, we have a caste system now?" I barked.

"I am a Queen here," Susan reminded me, "And if you bother me enough I'll just send you to the back of the line."

"May I remind you that you are just recently a schoolgirl from England and I don't take orders?" I said, seething. "I'm not trying to be disrespectful, honest I'm not. But you've disliked me from the beginning so why make demands of me?"

"You're losing your temper again, Pippin," Susan said coolly.

"So what if I am? At least I don't bottle things up inside and deny happiness."

Susan laughed outright. "How am I denying happiness?"

"Don't think I haven't noticed," I told her, "You're afraid of getting your heart broken again by being sent back. So you're trying not to get too attached while you are here. You COULD be very happy for however long you are here. But…you are denying it. And if you think Caspian will be your link to staying in Narnia forever, you are mistaken."

Susan hesitated before speaking. "This denial is obvious, you say?"

"No, it isn't. Not to most."

"Well," Susan avoided eye contact. "You are more observant than I gave your mental level credit for."

"Yeah, I know," I said sarcastically, "It's hard to imagine that people who are random and like to have fun can have any sort of depth. Crazy stuff. Very rare."

Susan walked away, her gaze cold and back rigid.

"Fine, walk away," I muttered, "Just when I thought we were getting some breakthroughs."

I yawned and stretched. "Hey Ed," I called down, "What do you call a crocodile with a fly swatter?" I placed all my weight on my left foot, attempting to clamber down. Murphy's Law went into effect, and there was no tree branch under that foot. And with all that weight in one general direction with no support, I found the ground rushing towards me with incredible speed.

With a shrill yelp of "HAPPY THOUGHTS!" I fell to the ground in heap and rolled over twice.

"Well," I moaned, "I'd forgotten the fairy dust."

"What do you call girls in treetops?" Edmund chuckled as he approached, holding his hand out.

I did not take his hand. "Liable to fall," I confessed, "But always higher than the boys!"

"Alright," Edmund withdrew his hand. "Fine, if that is how you feel."

"Okay, wait, get your butt—bahookey—back here."

I took his hand and stood. "Nothing broken," I affirmed, "Battered. But nothing too serious."

Lucy came rushing up to me and took my hand. "Come walk with me in line!" she said excitedly. "I want to talk all about the different creatures. You must learn all about them and know ALL their names!"

"Oh, COULD WE??" I said in mock excitement. Laughing, I added, "I'd love to. Really."

Peter gave me an amused smile as I walked by. With surprise, I noted it was a genuine warm smile, a friendly comrade smile.

I smiled back, pleased that things were getting better between us all.

Within a few moments, I was trying to speak like Caspian. "I am Pwince Cassssssspian," I said in the strange accent, sounding more like a eight-year-old Zorro with a lisp during a January leave from school because of a bad cold. "I yam Prinsssse Cassssspian!"

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**Well, that's all for now, folks! Thanks for reading, and do leave me a review. Oh! And here is a treat for you!**

**Would you like to hear my AWFUL attempt at Caspian's voice?**

**Go to:**

**/watch?vVrpyqkWRJ1Y**

**I do a silly voiceover. There's other videos you might enjoy, too, and everything is rated G. My username is MrsPippinBaggins.**

**So yah why don't yah partake in****the partaaaay??**


	7. Cave of Wonders

**Dear Reviewers,**

**Do you guys realize that we're almost to 100 reviews and we've only had a half-dozen chapters? It's incredible! This is so weird for me. Normally it takes me months to get that many. Thank-you, as ever, for the support, critiquing, help with the movie link and dialogue, compliments, and words of encouragement. You're amazing.**

**God Bless,**

**Pippin**

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**PS: I am now an official freshman in a university. **

**PPS: Friar Jerome? Tis your turn. (wicked laugh)**

**PPPS: It is summer vacation for me now, too. Now I can write ALL the time!**

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**Important Notice:**

**My story is rated K, but for the night raid, I will be rating it T. (Or possibly a very small M). I just think that experiencing it from a girls' POV (who has never seen a battle before) it would be much more violent than Peter or Edmund's point of view. So, yes, violence will be present. If any of you have any concerns, do let me know. That'll be the next chapter. **

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**Chapter Seven, Cave of Wonders**

I walked with Lucy and Reepicheep in the long line of traveling beasties. During this time, Reepicheep gave me the most random sword-use instructions like, "Keep your elbow tucked in" or "It's all in your wrist" and "Secrecy and speed is your best bet".

"Surely you don't plan on fighting in battle?" Lucy asked me at one point.

"There's a battle?" I replied, my stomach suddenly feeling funny.

"These sorts of things end in battle," Lucy explained seriously.

"It's either the Telmarines or the Narnians," Reepicheep added, "Prince Caspian has pledged us our freedom for fighting on his side. He wants to unite Telmar and Narnia. Narnia is his true throne—of course, it was by conquest years ago—but he cannot change the sins of his fathers. He can only make things better. We must defeat the Telmarines, which will mean a battle. He went against Miraz for this, you might say—even if he didn't know it at the time. He changed sides to make things right again."

"So, technically, he was a traitor to his own country," I mused out loud, though I wasn't trying to sound mean or anything. "But a traitor to imperfect causes, right?"

"He is joining OUR cause," Reepicheep said wisely, "Whether it is right or wrong depends on the person you ask. But by the Lion's Mane, Narnia belongs to the Talking Beasts by Aslan's own command. Caspian is fighting for HIM by joining us."

"Then it is the right cause," I said thoughtfully.

"It is an honor to fight in Aslan's name," declared Reepicheep.

"I don't think it's a matter of honor," Lucy interjected thoughtfully, "We fight in faith that he loves us, and we love him in return."

"Love and faith are honorable causes," Reepicheep exclaimed. "Oh! Forgive me, Your Majesty, it is not my place to disagree."

"Is it my place to question a Knight of Narnia?" Lucy smiled at him. "I don't think so. You may disagree with me any time you like."

"Thank-you, Your Majesty," Reepicheep replied.

"But you are right," Lucy said, "Love and faith are honorable causes."

"Very honorable," I agreed, feeling like the conversation had taken a turn that I had no right to be in.

We came out of the woods presently, it being a short walk. Well, perhaps not a short walk, but it only took two and a half hours in comparison to the days I'd walked with the Pevensies—so it felt shorter.

We came on the border of a wide field, broad and grassy. I was itching to ride a horse across it. A brisk wind that smelled like summer whipped by and created shimmering waves across the plain.

"Oh!" Lucy whispered, excited with the beauty of it.

We began walking forward, the Pevensies suddenly looking very solemn. I tried to be solemn too, but then one of the fauns asked me if I was ill and if I needed a bag to vomit in. I must have looked very interesting indeed.

I stopped trying to be solemn and tried looking normal—if I COULD look normal in a mystical land where animals talk and trees used to do the cha cha—and walked slightly behind the Royals so that they'd have the spotlight.

In the middle of the field was a grouping of stones, several standing tall and upright as if it were the remains of a courtyard. In the center of the broken walls was flagstone pavement with grass growing through the cracks. We walked through it, and most people acted like it wasn't there. I glanced around curiously and wondered what it used to be. There may have been some carving on the rocks, but I couldn't be sure.

On the other side of the rock formations there was a very tall hill built of stone and earth all mounded up together. It looked as if someone tried to build a fortress and then the earth grew up over it. A sunken road led inside a square entrance.

Two lines of centaurs with very long swords lined up on either side. The Pevensie kids (and Caspian) all stopped and waited for them to finish a very simplistic but beautiful salute. I was too busy watching the centaurs, didn't notice they'd stopped, and ran right into Susan.

"Would you watch yourself, please?" Susan said a little sharply.

I backed up, muttering apologies, but sounding intoxicated instead.

The centaurs held their swords over the roadway that dipped lower down (until the centaurs were practically perched on the edge of two walls) and the Pevensies moved forward.

Caspian stayed behind.

"Go on," I whispered, "You should be walking with them!"

"This is their…I don't think…" Caspian said to himself.

"You're the rightful heir," I added.

Caspian turned and gave me a strange look. "Walk with me," he said kindly.

"Okay," I said doubtfully. Caspian and I began walking behind Peter and the rest. I could almost picture the fanfare of music—but there were only whispers in the army behind us, feet tapping the ground, and flags snapping in the breeze.

"Why am I walking with you?" I hissed through the side of my mouth as we passed under the blades held aloft. _It would be just my luck for the baby centaur to drop that blade on my head by accident. _

"Humor me," Caspian hissed back.

"Fine!" I whispered, shrugging. _Perhaps he's camera shy. _I felt myself stupidly looking around for a camera. Then I remembered something—didn't I put my camera in my bag before leaving for the library? _I'll have to check on that once the ceremonial stuff is over._

We passed under the doorway and came into a busy cave. It wasn't dank, damp, or dark, it was actually rather warm and cheery. There were torches everywhere, giving the expansive cave a ruddy yellow light. Creatures overran the place making weapons, clanging hammers and tongs in bonfires, carrying loads of armor, and generally looking busy.

"It may not be what you are used to, but it is defensible," Caspian told Peter.

Everyone spread out and began exploring. I stood there, unsure of what to do. I almost expected to find myself passing under the swords again due to un-happenings, but there wasn't any time vacuum or magnetic shift. Those darn un-happenings had been leaving me alone lately—I hoped it was for good!

"I still feel like an outsider sometimes, the presence of another outsider was comforting," Caspian said in a low voice, suddenly appearing beside me.

"Outsider, huh?" I turned and looked at him.

"I believe the Great Horn accidentally called you up from somewhere," Caspian discreetly put a hand on a bundle hanging from his belt. " High King Peter told me your were not with them in the past."

"True," I answered. "I lived a whole ocean away from them. Don't mention it to them—but I actually came from more than fifty years in their future, too!"

"Incredible," Caspian said admirably, "But I'd like to apologize from calling you up. If I had any control, I would have made you stay. It wouldn't do for a young girl like yourself being pulled into the bloodiest time of our history and forced to participate."

"I am older than Lucy and Susan," I sighed, tired of the age assumption.

"Well, Queen Lucy is…well, a Queen!" Caspian protested.

"And I'm a bloody freshman in college—or, will be—if I ever go back."

"I did not suspect you were older than Queen Susan, though," Caspian backtracked, as they always do. "Not because of…um…your actions."

"I know, I know," I waved a hand. "I'm short. We're breaking records that have already been broken several times over."

"Peter!" called Susan suddenly from an entrance to another part of the cave. "You may want to see this!"

Curious, Caspian and I followed Peter to see what Susan was talking about. Up two or three stairs was a round cove with yellowish walls. On these walls were paintings—cave paintings.

"Where are the mammoths and saber tooth's?" I asked jokingly, not taking a very close look.

"It's us," Susan said, still sounding like she was recovering from a shock herself.

I bent down to take a closer look at one nearer to the floor than the others. It was a blonde-haired boy with a great wolf pierced at the end of his sword. Another picture was four children by four thrones. A second was a reddish faun holding an umbrella and standing beneath a lamppost. I almost wanted to cry when I saw them. I didn't really know why. It just seemed so lonely and sad—beautiful times lost forever in this bloody, violent war.

"What IS this place?" Lucy asked.

"You don't know?" Caspian said, startled. "You mean, you didn't hear what Aslan's How meant?"

"It didn't exist in our time," Susan said sadly.

"Let me show you something," Caspian took a torch from the wall and led deeper in the cave hall. I followed last in line, touching the little drawing of the faun. I wondered if this was Mr. Tumnus… I wondered why Lucy didn't give this drawing a second glance.

We filed out behind Caspian and went down another flight of five or six wide steps. By the way our footprints echoed I could tell we were in a much larger cave than before. The air was colder and wetter and it closed in on ones face in a misty squeeze.

Caspian reached out with his torch and lit a small bundle that sat on a pedestal on fire. The fire spread from the pedestal to a track of these oil bundles along a waist high wall. The fire shot down the wall in a straight line—hit a corner some distance ahead—and changed direction and began running from left to right.

"National Treasure," I said dryly. "Are there no surprises anymore?"

Edmund glanced at me confusedly.

"Don't mind me, I'm just your Court Jester," I waved him aside.

He snickered. "You are better than our last court jester. It was a gymnastic cheetah."

"How did a cheetah like being a…" I slowly trailed off, staring at the fire. It had lit up a beautiful carving—not a painting like the earlier decorations—but something created by cutting into the stone itself. It was a seven-foot carving of Aslan. The first thing I noticed was that his eyes looked very, very sad.

The fire finished its round like an electric train running around the outer wall of a toyshop. It lit up the center of the room, where tall stone pieces of wall—just like out in the field—framed the carving of Aslan with a few steps running beneath it. A path wound its way between the fire-wall and the ancient slabs of rock around the room.

In the very middle was a stone table but it was cracked right down the middle. Well, isn't this the cave of wonders. _I don't suppose it's the same table…_

Lucy crept towards it and tentatively put a hand on its cold surface.

_Yup. Aslan's Stone Table. _

"Will somebody please say something?" I whispered, feeling uncomfortable with all the dramatic pauses. If we'd had a movie score in the background, sure. But there was only silence and a drip-drop from a leak in the roof somewhere.

"He must know what He is doing," Lucy said, turning to us.

Susan looked up at the carving. Caspian watched their faces—mostly Susan's.

Peter's breathing velocity began to increase as if he was holding back tears. "I think its up to us now," he said conclusively, as if it were the end of discussion.

"Why?" I blabbed. He looked at me as if daring me to question his authority. "I mean, he rose from the dead, didn't he? Why are you talking like he is dead?"

"Do you see him HERE?" Peter gestured around the room.

"I for one don't HAVE to," I said helplessly, fiddling with my book bag and peeking inside. I didn't see a camera.

"Stop, Pippin," Peter said, looking tortured. "Please. Can't you see we have to do what we can without him here?"

Lucy looked at Peter in surprise. "He's not like a normal Lion. He doesn't just disappear after a few years. He's with us even if we can't see him!"

"Lucy," Peter begged, "I know. But I'm not getting any clear direction from an invisible lion right now. Caspian called us here to help. That's what we've got to do."

There was a brief silence.

Suddenly, a black bird over one foot tall flew in. "Your Majesties!" he croaked. "An enemy scout was seen at the edge of the woods! They know we're here!" he alighted at Caspian's feet. "What are you orders?"

Peter opened his mouth to say something, but Caspian spoke to the bird without hesitation. "Gather all the captains and the generals and head of every species in here. We're going to have a council."

Peter nodded approvingly.

"Yes, sire," said the bird, taking off again in the direction we'd come, cawing rambunctiously.

Within a moment, all kinds of creatures began to file in. Everyone sat down as if it were going to be a long wait. Lucy hopped onto the Stone Table and traced peculiar letters alone the rim with her tiny fingers.

"Is everyone here?" Peter asked after some moment's time.

There were murmured assents. Peter nodded to Caspian.

"We've bean found by a Telmarine scout," Caspian told all those assembled. "We need to discuss what we plan to do next."

The creatures all muttered and nodded approvingly—instead of just giving commands, he wanted to discuss it will all interested. I thought this was a ver smart move on Caspian's part.

"I am afraid," Peter began to speak, "That now they know we are here, they'll attack too soon. It's only a matter of time."

"What do you propose we do, your Majesty?" asked Reepicheep.

"The Telmar capital," said Peter.

"I think we need," Caspian said at the exact same time.

There was a tense silence when Caspian and Peter looked at eachother, wondering which Reepicheep had spoken too in the first place. Caspian just gave Peter a short nod to continue.

"Our only hope," Peter went on, "Is to strike them before they strike us."

"That is crazy, no one has ever taken that castle!" Caspian cried.

"There's always a first time," Peter offered.

"We'd have the element of surprise," Trumpkin leaned forward eagerly.

"But we have the advantage here," Caspian's hand twitched emphatically, as if he wanted to bang his fist on the ground until everyone saw his point.

"If we dig in," Susan left her seat and stood by Caspian. "We could probably hold them off indefinitely." She looked at Peter for approval, but he only gave her a cranky eyebrow furrow.

"I for one feel safer underground!" added Trufflehunter.

A few centaurs and horses chuckled at this.

"Look," said Peter patiently, "I appreciate what you've done here. But this isn't a fortress—it's a tomb."

He did have a point there. _If bombarded with catapults, would it show it was built to last? Who knows. It may be too risky to wait and see._

"Yes," Edmund agreed, "And if the Telmarines are smart they will just wait and starve us out."

"We could collect nuts!" suggested the red squirrel sitting next to Reepicheep.

"Yes!" Reep said with mock enthusiasm. "And throw them at the Telmarines!"

Several creatures chuckled again, particularly the birds, who didn't have any fingers to throw with.

"Shut up," added Reep for good measure. "I think you know where I stand, sire!" he added.

Peter looked at Caspian for a very long time, waiting for his final answer. "You know my idea, your Majesty," he said, licking his lips as if not liking the taste of sharing his title with someone else. "I think its what we should do."

Caspian waited, deep in thought. He finally met Peter's eyes and gave a single nod.

"If you can get your troops in," Peter directed this to the general centaur, "Can you handle the guard?"

The centaur looked at Caspian, looking uncomfortable answering to the King of the past. "Or die trying," he said, his loyalty undoubted, but his heart was not in it. "My liege," he added after a pause.

"That is what I am worried about!" Lucy spoke up.

"Sorry?" Peter asked, confused.

"Well, you're all acting like there is only two options," Lucy explained, "Dying then, or die now."

"Are you sure you've really been listening, Lu?" Peter asked.

"No, you're not listening!" cried Lucy. She sobered. "Or have you forgotten who REALLY defeated the White Witch, Peter? Pippin was right. We're all acting as if Aslan never rose from the dead and we'll have to try and get along without him."

"I think we've waited for Aslan long enough," Peter said, whirling on heel and walking from the room.

I looked back at the carving. Aslan's deeply etched eyes looked forgotten and lonely. How many were going to die for rushing into things?

"I guess I may as well be one of them," I mused out loud, mesmerized by Aslan's features in the stone.

"What did you say?" asked Edmund, leaning down from his perch.

"I might as well die with you all," I said a little louder.

"You want to fight with us?" Edmund said in surprise.

"Are you going to try and stop me?" I answered a question with a question.

"Well, no, but," Edmund stuttered, "I didn't think you were the sort of girl."

"Were you the sort of boy when you first came here?" I asked.

"No. I was all about bullying and teasing and putting garden snails in girls beds."

I shuddered.

"Why don't I show you some pointers with your sword if you are planning on going?" Edmund offered. "We might as well better prepare you if you are so determined."

"Thanks," I said humbly, but suddenly I felt so scared I wanted to pee my pants.

* * *

**Will Pippin cut her own head off?**

**Will she ever find her camera?**

**Will she actually be stupid enough to join the night raid? (She's a teenager. Of course she's stupid enough.) **

**Will Pattertwig throw nuts at the Telmarines? **

**Will Peter EVER stop acting like beef jerky?**

**Next is the night raid! Buckle your seat belts, read and review, and away we go!**

**Stay tuned!**


	8. Preparations and Strange Dreams

**Dearest Reviewers,**

**WHOA! We made it over 100 reviews! You guys are incredible! This is only chapter eight—this is the first time for me—I feel so spoiled. **

**Ya'll know me all too well! I don't even think I could think of adjectives to use to make this graphic enough for an M rating! It'll be rated T. If you see anything that seems too violent just let me know and I'll up the rating. I don't want anyone younger than the age of thirteen getting a nasty surprise and having nightmares or something. (like cans of Dr. Pepper attacking them with pencils and book bags) **

**Oh, and one more note, sorry for the use of 'bloody' in the last chapter. I didn't think twice about it since it is not a curse word in America, but I wasn't being very thoughtful for any British reviewers. (If I have any.)**

**Well, now that all that is over with, onto the next chapter!**

**Love to all,**

**Pip**

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**PS: **I decided, even though there are a few of you that have expressed support for an Edmund/Mary Sue (that Mary Sue being ME) fic, I just can't do it. I would feel quite guilty for the other party that likes this story because it ISN'T a Mary Sue, and it goes against my code—creed, if you will—of being loyal to Lewis. Plus, my dears, I am very…old…for Edmund. His character was what—fourteen? I'd be a cradle robber! Anyway…that's my conclusion.

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**Shout Out to Monkey: **I love your idea. I will use it with your kind permission.

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**Chapter 8, Preparation and Strange Dreams**

"How am I doing?" I asked Edmund about an hour into our sword practice. We were caught in a pause, both our blades were pressed together and we were putting our weight into it. I expected him to start monologuing about 'using hate to give me strength in the Dark Side'.

"You'll die bravely," he said, gritting his teeth.

"Fine!" I snapped, suddenly stepping out of our stance. Edmund toppled forward and landed on his hands and knees. "That was good!" he barked. "Stab me while I'm down!"

I lunged as if to stab the dirt next to him. He used to flat side of the blade and smacked me in the ankle. "If you are going to stab him while he's down, leap. Your feet will be off the ground in case of an ankle swipe. You can stab him in the back and use him as a spring board to get behind him."

I backed up, panting. "Are you always this good?"

"Yes," he rolled and was quickly on his feet again. "Let them make the first move." I waited, and he swung his blade in an arch. I wasn't sure which way to block so I dived and plowed into his stomach.

"Oof!" he exclaimed, dropping his sword. I stepped back again, and he put a hand on his stomach.

"Sorry," I squeaked, "Did I hurt you?"

"No, you knocked the breath out of me," he said. "That was also very good! If you're a better wrestler than you are a fencer, by all means, get rid of the weapons and go for the throat."

"If I CAN get them to drop their weapon," I said thoughtfully. "Well…shall we go again?"

Edmund used the flat again and whacked me in the shoulder. "I've just cut off your right arm, what will you do?"

I collapsed on the ground and started twitching.

"What is THAT?" he asked.

"A seizure," I replied.

"Get up," he commanded.

"Okay." I stood.

"I repeat," said Edmund patiently, "What will you do without your right arm?"

I switched hands. "I'll use my left," I said, "AND I'll scream every profanity ever known to man. Except for the ones that take the Lord's name in vain, of course."

"And if they come at you from the right?" Edmund whirled around me and rushed to my side, ignoring my second idea.

I hesitated, completely unsure of what to do without a right arm. Just as Ed drew close enough to really do damage, I turned so I had my back to him and used the butt-end of my hilt to bash him in the chin.

"Ouch!" Edmund jumped back, rubbing his face.

"Oh!" I turned around. "I'm so sorry!"

"Pippin, if you stop and apologize every time you get someone, you'll be dead in thirty seconds!" Edmund said, lowering his hand.

"Sorry," I said, "I just thought I'd given you a fat lip or something."

"No, but you made me a very proud teacher. That was very clever. Its an elementary move, but clever for your level."

"I watch a lot of Pirate movies," I confessed.

"Do you like Errol Flynn?" Edmund asked, circling me in a very creepy way.

"I LOVE Errol Flynn!" I gushed.

"Don't get distracted!" Edmund suddenly rushed me again, going directly for a stab. I sidestepped it and clumsily threw my sword around, trying to hit his blade away from me.

"Careful," Ed urged, "Don't kill me. I'm just the instructor."

We went on and on like this for another hour. Soon I was so exhausted I finally sat on the ground and panted, "Strike. I am going on strike."

"You've done pretty well, for a clumsy girl," Edmund plopped down next to me.

"Will I live?" I asked breathlessly.

"More or less." Edmund glanced up—Peter was calling his name somewhere. "Pippin," he said seriously, "Are you sure you want to do this?"

"Noooooo," I drawled.

"Then WHY are you doing it?" Edmund pressed.

"Why are YOU asking so many questions?" I sidestepped only because I didn't know what to say. I wasn't suicidal, and I wasn't brave. What kind of descriptive terms did I have that explained the balance between the two?

"_Edmund!" _Peter called again exasperatingly.

"I'm coming, Pete!" Edmund stood up and brushed the dirt from his hands on his pants. "Look," he said in a different tone, turning and facing me again. "I'll be honest. Tonight you'll last about fifteen—twenty minutes tops. When you die, it will most likely be by bleeding to death lying helplessly with a few other bodies and praying for rescue. I don't WANT to be morbid, and I DON'T want to discourage you."

"You just want me to know what I'm getting myself into," I finished.

"Yes," Edmund said softly. "Now…I repeat. Do you really want to do this?"

He held my gaze until I grew disquieted enough to break it. "Yes!" I said, not really irritated at him but sounding like it. "I'm a teenager. I'm stupid. It's all I do. Well—okay—except for writing fan fictions and getting zits and singing."

"Edmund, come on, we're drawing the plans, and Caspian wants to talk with you about using your electric torch for something!" Peter appeared by the door. "You can chat later!"

Edmund rolled his eyes at Peter, then turned to me again. "Get some sleep," he said, sounding annoyed with the stubbornness but in a tender way. "I'm going to try and figure something out for you."

"What would that be, exactly?"

"That would be for King Edmund the Just to know about, and for Pippin the lowly peasant to NOT know…yet." He turned and walked away.

I threw a dirt clod at him and missed.

Lucy came running up then. "Pippin," she called, "You never answered my question about fighting in the battle. Are you?"

"Oh, right," I said distractedly, "I am…or, I hope to."

"Perfect," Lucy came running up to me and grabbed my hand. "Come with me. The fauns have been working on armor for me, but I told them I wouldn't be fighting. I'm only an inch or so taller than you, so, it may just fit you."

"Excellent!" I said, slightly excited.

We went into the armory and Lucy began showing me the pieces and strapping them to me. "These are the arm guards," she narrated, "And here's the chain mail—hmmm—it's a little long. Quinn?" a black-haired faun came to us and bowed.

"Can we get this chain mail shortened for Pippin?" Lucy asked sweetly.

"Absolutely, your Majesty," said Quinn, "But will you not be using it yourself?"

"I am afraid I am very rusty on my fighting skills," Lucy admitted, patting the fauns' hand.

"But you did so well during the fight at Anvard in the great battle with Calormene!" cried Quinn, excited. "Our bedtime tales say that you led the attack yourself."

"I did," Lucy smiled at him, "But I was much older and more mature then!"

The faun blinked, confused. "Uh…very well, your Majesty."

"Poor dears," Lucy whispered to me when he had taken the chain mail shirt away. "I wish I could explain it all to them."

"I'm sure they do too," I whispered back.

After another ten minutes, Lucy showed me how to put on my armor. With my short-cropped hair and lack of makeup, I looked like a boy.

"Lucy," I whined, "I'm a man!"

"You could almost be Caspian's long lost brother!" giggled Lucy.

"Lusssssseeee!" I shouted like the Prince in 'Enchanted'. "Come, my love! Let us not tarry and be married! I have slaughtered the evil dragon and we must proceed to my golden castle in the clouds!"

"Alas," Lucy hid her face and curtsied. "I am not worthy of your…um…manliness."

"All women are worthy!" I guffawed in my manly Edward voice. "We will be married tomorrow! Wait—what is that I hear? My valiant steed gallops aloft and will arrive soon to carry us away."

Lucy collapsed on the floor, laughing hysterically.

"It wasn't that funny," I said seriously.

She kept on laughing.

"Come on, Lu, I am not THAT funny," I said, grinning nevertheless.

"No, no, its not you, its h…" Lucy cried breathlessly.

"No, wait," I giggled, "Let me show you FUNNY!" I drew myself up to…well, as high as I could go…and drew my sword. "I am Prince Caspian Jr.!" I said in a pretty darn good Spanish accent. "Lucy! My love of loves! My father has spoken of your gallantry. I must ask you to bestow…uh…the Genovian order of the Rose! I beggeth you!" I dropped to my knees.

"Rather!" snorted Lucy.

I tried to stand back up. "Darn," I snapped, "I can't get up."

"Allow me to give you some assistance," said Caspian's voice.

I screeched and fell even more over. Lucy was laughing so hard she wasn't making a sound any more. There were now several onlookers.

"Well, hey there, Highness, your Honor, sir," I stumbled.

Caspian grasped my elbow and pulled me to my feet.

"I tried to warn you!" giggled Lucy. Caspian held out his hand and helped her to her feet as well.

"You did," I said, blushing.

"That was highly amusing," Caspian smirked at me. "So—how does my accent sound again?"

"Oh shutup!" I whirled and marched away on heel, and everyone in the armory burst into laughter. When they subsided, the only noise to be heard was the awful clanking and jingling my armor made and they all laughed a second time.

"LUCY!" I screamed. "Please come help me get out of all this!" She scurried after me and Caspian bit his lip to hold back his polite fruit Prince chuckles.

As early evening drew into later, we were informed by a crier that we had two hours to sleep and another for getting ready. Lucy told me she'd wake me when it was time. After eating a meager dinner, she left me alone to get some rest.

I crawled into a makeshift bed of two thin, moth-eaten blankets huddled against the square arch that framed the view of Aslan's carved statue. I pulled my book bag towards me, opened the flap, and began a more thorough search. I found a toothbrush—thank God—but no toothpaste. There were two sticks of gum, the Prince Caspian book, and a few other essential feminine items. A sheaf of notebook paper and a pen also lay in there—along with a few tissues, my wallet, and a receipt from the Dollar Tree. There was also the leather gloves I'd stolen from the treasure chamber—the arm guards were nowhere to be found. Either it was the result of an un-happening or I dropped them.

_Who knows?_

I opened my Prince Caspian book nonchalantly, planning on flipping through the blank pages and wonder forlornly if I'd ever know the future like all the other World Fall Ins.

I was surprised to find the first page full.

"_The library was extremely quiet, as usual," _I read out loud. _"It was one of those days when I biked over in the Englandish kind of day." _I gasped.

The blank book DID have words in it—but they weren't C. S. Lewis's.

They were MINE.

It was everything I'd ever thought, or did, since the fateful moment when I passed across the threshold of the library entrance.

"_It was raining slightly," _I continued. "…_and the clouds were gray, but the air was fresh and smelled green. A good book day." _

I closed the book, mouth open so wide a bird could fly in.

"Well, I'll be killed and chilled by Happy Dale cemetery," I breathed in complete shock. I pulled the book open again, this time a little father on.

_"So, Pumpkin," I ventured._

"_It's Trumpkin," he growled softly._

"_Do you have any lembas?"_

"_What the hedgehog is that?"_

"_It's a wafer bread. Elves make it."_

I slammed the book shut.

"This is crazy," I said out loud. "Abolsutely crazy! And incredible! I love it all ready! I won't even have to try and remember anything! I can type it right up and post it when I get back! Er…if I ever GET back. Maybe this is just a stupid un-happening too and it will all be blank again." I propped my book bag behind my head for a pillow and slapped my head on it. Something very hard pressed against my skull.

I sighed. "What is this??" I unzipped the front flap, which had a pocket I had forgotten to look in, and found my camera.

"Yes!" I muttered sleepily. "Now! I can take pictures! I'll show everyone when I get home! They'll all see what I did this summer…if I ever GET back…" that was definitely my favorite saying of the hour.

I was beginning to drift. "I have to remember to get a picture with Lucy and Susan…I will give Caspian bunny ears!"

Soon, I was sleeping. But what is a sleep before battle without a dream?

I dreamed I was standing in front of my house back in that Other Place. I saw a man leading a horse go by, but he wasn't really there. It just a premonition or something. On the horse were two body bags…with bodies in them, apparently.

Just then, the man turned and grinned at me evilly. He lifted the hood from one of the body bags, and I saw Edmund's face.

"Crap!" I shouted. "He's going to kill my friends!" I ran down the street and was suddenly in downtown. Before me was the old-fashioned 40s theatre called the 'Cameo' that I love going to. The sign said "Prince Caspian, Hollywood premiere!"

I scurried inside, saw a friend of mine from school named Ben, and sat two seats down from him. I scanned the theatre, thinking for some stupid reason that Edmund would be in this US theatre in the year 2008 even though he lived in 1940s England.

Suddenly, I looked down at myself and realized I was wearing a gorgeous salmon colored dress and white high heels. What the heck?

Just then, with a polite "'Scuse me, 'scuse me," Edmund was seated beside me. "Sorry I'm late," he blabbed. He looked at my dress. "OH," he cried, "I guess I should have dressed up for the occasion!"

He was wearing black sweatpants and a black sweatshirt.

"Uh, it's okay," I stammered, "You looked so hawt during Homecoming that'll keep you going for the next couple of months!"

Edmund's mouth dropped open and he snorted in laughter. My friend Ben burst into hysterical laughing too. I blushed so badly and muttered, "I can't believe I just said that!!" They kept on guffawing.

"Just to let you know, some guy is coming to kill you," I interrupted their revelry.

"Oh! We must warn Peter!" Edmund jumped to his feet and ran to the front of the theatre, with me close behind him. Peter was sitting in the front row. Together, the three of us ran out to an adjoining country neighborhood.

Suddenly, a crowd of screaming people grabbed swords and charged to attack us.

The ground began to shake, a huge hole appeared, and a Narnian army poured out. They began fighting with the charge of people, saving the Pevensie boys and I.

A shrieking woman ran by then, screaming, "THERE'S A MONSTER!"

"Um," I corrected, "Try a couple hundred different species of creatures from another universe?"

Then, it faded into blackness.

"Pippin," said Lucy's voice.

"Hmm?" I mumbled. "What, Lu?"

"I'll help you with your armor, here's a bit of food for you, and their meeting in the main cave."

"Is it time?" I asked, not entirely awake yet.

"Yes," she whispered, "It's time."

* * *

**Sorry, bit of a cliffie there. The Night Raid will be next. **

**And, yes my dears, I DID have that dream...last night, actually. It was just so funny and ridiculous I just HAD to put it in!**

**God bless**

**Pippin**


	9. The Raid Begins

**Dearest, kind, supportive Reviewers: **

**The secret to having such a dream? Well, let me tell you how I did it. **

**I was at a sleepover with Ariwen from **_**Lord of the Earrings**_**, Leyli from **_**I was King of Narnia**_**, and Elizabeth from **_**Chaos: the Abnormal Senior Trip**_**. **

**Those are the ingredients to start with, now here is the recipe. **

**Step One: Jump on a trampoline (or just jump) for a half-hour. **

**Step Two: Think about your latest Narnian fan fiction obsessively but don't say anything about it in front of the friends that think its silly. **

**Step Three: Eat half of Leyli's root beer float and a slice of toasted garlic bread. (Not at the same time). Eat two teeny tiny oatmeal chocolate cookies made by Leyli. (Yeah, at sleepovers, I get pretty hungry). **

**Step Four: Be attacked by said girls who decide to give you birthday kisses on the cheek just after midnight. **

**Step Five: Be wished happy birthday.**

**Step Six: Have a sibling or friend (in my case, sister) say, "Dream of hawt guys tonight!" **

**Step Seven: As you are trying to sleep, listen to Antonio Banderas and "Ooh Aah" by…THE GRITS! (Yeah, I got it right this time). **

**Step Eight: Then listen to the Return of the King soundtrack. **

**Result: Garlic, chocolate, a carbonated drink, a wish from your friends, and music may just be what you need for such a dream! Good luck! Well, um, SWEET DREAMS!**

**Much Love,**

**Pip**

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**Authors Warning:**

**For those of you who do not read reviewer notes, this chapter is rated T. **

**T for violence…and stuff…battle stuff…**

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**Disclaimer:**

**I own nothing but Pippin Baggins (myself) and Shade the Tiger—who is going to be a total kick-butt character! **

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**Chapter Nine,**

**The Raid Begins**

Caspian stood high above the crowd. It was dark, save for one golden flicker of the torch Caspian held. It lit his face for us, the rest of the people were merely shuffles and whinnies and coughs in the blackness.

"My dearest Narnians, we are about to embark on a treacherous mission," Caspian said, his voice hoarse. There was a slight echo. "Miraz's castle has never been taken before. But let me say this: never before has it been attacked by such courage, skill, and loyalty to the True Narnia!"

There were some cheers and hoots and growls.

"My friends," Caspian said in a much less authoritive voice. "You have shown me such kindness and generosity—so much that I cannot repay you for this goodness. In fact, I am being selfish—so VERY selfish! I ask, I plead, I beg of you, to give me more. This attack, a raid, if you will, is the greatest risk you will probably ever take in your life. You cannot trust me if I say we are invincible. So I ask you to trust me that this is the very first step to retaking Narnia for your own—to belong, once again, to the Dryads and Naiads and Talking Animals, Fauns, Centaurs, Minotaurs, Satyrs, Dwarfs, Giants, river gods, stars, and ever so much more. This attempt is our only hope to stay Miraz's wrath until WE are ready for him. Then we can meet him here, when he comes in his rashness, and fight him on our own turf. That day may be tomorrow, a week, or in twenty years. And if we perish, our children shall fight for it for generations' hereafter—as long as it takes to give this country back to YOU—By Aslan's Right and Command—the true workers of the land. This is not an easy thing I ask of you. And I know this is hard to accept. But by the will of Aslan, we can persevere whether we succeed tonight or not. I myself have said that taking the castle tonight is crazy—like a fairy tale. But the High King Peter and his family were ancient history who became fairy tales—and look at us now! We have the help of the Kings and Queens called from the past age to aide us! Who says fairy tales cannot come true? So, with hope in our hearts, I now leave you with this option; if you are faint of hope, devoid of courage, and have not the belief in Aslan's protection—you may leave my army at once."

There were cries of "No!" and "We won't leave you!"

"Submitting to Aslan likewise means submitting to the rightful heir, the Son of Adam ordained by the Lion himself," said a blonde-haired faun, "I am content to follow him even if I go to my death. If we cannot die in the name of what is just and right, what have we to live for?"

There were several agreements. I nodded numbly inside my crookedly placed helmet.

"We cannot abandon our own Prince in his greatest hour of need—he is doing this for us, our children, and for as long as the land lasts!" Reepicheep's voice rang shrilly from the crowd. "What right have we to complain of the Telmarine oppression if we have not the honor and chivalry to fight for our own?"

"Well said, Reep!" said another.

"I thank-you, friends," Caspian said. "And now, High King Peter will give instructions and assign troops. Listen carefully for your placement. Once the battle plans have been laid out—we go to battle!" he raised his fist. "For Aslan and for our country!"

The army erupted into hollers, whinnies, cheers, screams, howls, grunts, claps, and whistles.

The torch flickered—Caspian's face disappeared from the illumination, and Peter's appeared in its place.

"Our first step is to position the ground troops, the General will lead you to the edge of the woods where you will wait for our signal. Edmund and Pippin…" I perked up my ears here. "Will be flown in by a griffin and be the first ones in the castle."

I paled. _I WAS WHAT?_

"They are in charge of signaling everyone in by flashing light," Peter continued, "The flash will go off and on—respond to NO OTHER LIGHT. The first signal will be for Queen Susan, Prince Caspian, and I, to enter and kill the watchmen and tower guards. After you see the first signal, I want two of your best grounds troops men to kill any soldiers near the bridge entrance. Have he rest of the army follow you."

"I'll do it, if Wick the Minotaur goes with me!" called Nikabrik, a Black dwarf I'd met (unofficially) earlier. He was a friend of Trumpkin's.

"Excellent," Peter agreed. "That first signal will also be the sign for the mice to move in. Your responsibility will be to kill any guards inside the room controlling the drawbridge. The General will send in a single person to get in by the drainpipe and help lower the drawbridge. Caspian, Susan, and I will be finished with the watchmen by then—and while Susan and I try and find Miraz, Caspian will open the main gate… and it will be open battle from there. Remember; show them no mercy, for you shall be shown none in return. Spare the women and children. Any questions?"

There were murmurs all around, but no shout outs.

"Well, then," Peter shouted, "By the Lion's Mane, on to battle!"

The crowd cry swelled until I'm sure the moon itself could hear it.

It took three hours to travel to Miraz's castle—or something like it. I stumbled along, half-awake and feeling too heavy for my own legs because of my armor. I probably would have slept-walk if a tiger had not padded softly up behind me and whispered, "Little mistress, it would not do to be weary before the battle even begins. Would thou like to ride on my back?"

"I think I'll break thee," I muttered sleepily.

"No indeed, Little Mistress, I am the largest Tiger of my clan—I have passed the height and strength of most of my Cousins, the Lion—my endurance will have thee and my back can hold thee."

"I cannot say thank-you enough for thine kindness," I put a hand on his soft shoulder and he knelt. I hopped on his back and rode him like a horse. The tiger was right—he was HUGE. He must have been almost four feet tall at the neck.

"What is thy name, um, noble beast?" I asked blearily.

The Tiger chuckled softly. "My manner of speech becomes thee, Little Mistress, but if it is unnatural for thee, do not suffer thyself to try and speak it on account of me."

"Yes sir," I replied, smiling in spite of myself.

"My name is Shade," said the Tiger calmly as we padded along. The moon was hidden behind a cloud and it was pitch black. Occasionally I could see a gleam of armor ahead or a helmet behind. Other than that, all I could see was the broad shoulders and strong head of the tiger before me.

"That is an awesome name," I said to Shade.

"I thank thee, my little Mistress."

"You do not have to call me Little Mistress."

"Well," explained Shade, "In my clan, I was brought up to call young female cubs Little Tigress. Thee is a cub, and a female, but not one of my clan. I use Mistress because it is akin to the word Tigress in thine common human tongue, am I correct?"

"Maybe," I yawned. "I'm not very sure. Its awfully good of you, though."

"If thy eyes grow heavy in sleep, thee may shift farther back and rest thy head between my shoulders," offered Shade.

"Shade, I like you a lot," I scooted back like he suggested and put my head down. His fur was comfortably short and only a little course, and the rocking movement of his muscles moving from side to side was like being on a drifting boat.

"Sleep well and without concern, Little Mistress," said Shade. His voice was so deep and oozy, it reminded me of days when I attended an African American church and the men had the biggest, richest voices in the city. "Heed no nightly noises," said the cat, "For I will not commit a false step in my tread and awake thee."

"Heed no nightly noises," I repeated, smiling. "A wise tree once said the same thing to two small people like myself."

"It was well spoken," said Shade soothingly, "It is the lyrics of a common lullaby in my clan."

"Will you sing it?" I asked.

"My voice is strong," said the great tiger, "It would keep thine eyes from shutting and thine mind from resting."

"Ohmmmm," I replied, letting my eyes shut. The last thing before falling asleep that I remember was the chest of the tiger rumbling and a rich hum came from his pursed lips. The melody was beautiful and soon the entire army was straining their own ears to hear his quiet music. It was so soft, it was almost a purr.

"Awake, little Mistress!" Shade's voice was so abrupt and harsh in my dreamless, strengthening sleep that I bolted upright.

"Yes? Are we here? Is it time? Is it over?" I questioned.

"No, no, little one," said Shade, "It is time for us to part. From this moment forward, the ground troops move into these woods, while thee and young King of Justice go into the castle."

I looked ahead. Before us was a wide field, and then the twinkling lights of a stone city lay just beyond that. The woods stretched behind us, curved around to my left, and bordered a steep hollow. Adjoining the hollow and the city (which steadily went uphill) were cliffs. On top of the cliffs was Miraz's castle—a cruel looking place. A narrow bridge connected the end of the city and the drawbridge. The moon shone so brightly against the dark blue lands that each detail seemed too sharp. The moon cast darker shadows on the ground and caused everything to have a magical, evil look. Heavy fog was coming from the west and hovered around the turrets of the castle in wisps. All right, there's the Tolkien description. And now that the picture has probably been imprinted into your brain for good, I will move on.

Shade knelt, and I hopped off. "Thank-you so much," I said, "I feel completely rested now."

"Do not tell others," whispered the tiger, "But Talking Animals are never required, nor expected, nor even encouraged to let humans ride on us. I favor thee over all the others. When the battle is over, we must have a long talk, thee and I. Human cubs are so amusing, and I've always wanted one as my own."

I blinked. "Huh?"

Shade blinked his golden eyes too. "Does thy mind not understand these things? Ah well."

"What do you mean you've always WANTED one?" I asked. "You mean, like, for eating?"

Shade looked abashed. "Heaven's, no. Allow me to try and explain myself. Sometimes when one is young, they have a wish to keep a small animal. They play with it, tell it stories, feed it, care for it, and give it a name. Humans have a rather strange word for it—what is it again? Oh yes. Pet. Humans call it a pet. I always wanted a human pet, but my mother and father—who was chief of our clan, actually—forbade me to have a companion."

I slapped a hand over my mouth to keep myself from laughing out loud. This strong, regal tiger (whom was practically a prince of his tribe) wanted a human pet when he was little.

"Did you know," I said, "That most humans want a tiger for pet when they are young too?"

"How absurd," Shade replied nonchalantly, "Imagine a human cub caring for a tiger! It is simply unheard of."

"Pippin!" called Edmund, running up from the front of the line. "We need to go—I've been looking everywhere for you. Thank-you for caring for her, Sir Shade."

"My pleasure, your Majesty," said Shade, bowing his head. "May thy sword be sharp tonight! And thee, little Pippin," the tiger turned to me, "May thy head be light and thine eyes clear, and I wish the greatest of safety to thee. Off thee goes!"

I gave the white fur around his throat a gentle pat. "Thank-you, Shade. I look forward to our long talk. Goodbye. May your claws…uh…do their work tonight. And your teeth, too. Um. I hope it all goes well for you. Be careful."

Edmund grabbed my hand. "Come on! We need to keep to the schedule!" he pulled me away and led me to where a huge griffin waited for us. The griffin grinned at us and flapped his wings excitedly.

"Calm yourself, Phonnow," Ed told him, holding up a hand. "We have a Lady to seat."

Phonnow settled his wings and bent down. Edmund cupped his hands and I placed my foot in them. He gave me a boost, and I was soon settled with my legs engulfed in feathers.

"Do you want me behind you or in front of you?" Edmund asked.

"In front," I said quickly, "You're the one who really needs to see what is going on."

"It doesn't matter in that case," said Edmund, hefting himself up and mounting the shoulders. "I could see over your head anyway."

"Ha, ha, ha," I muttered. "King Edmund the Just has graduated to King Edmund the Joker."

"Ready?" he asked.

I wrapped my arms around his waist. "Sure. But be forewarned. If Peter remembered how afraid I was of heights, he would not have assigned me to this job. It was kind of a stupid move. I'll probably just jeopardize the mission."

Edmund ignored me. "Ready, Phonnow!"

Phonnow ruffled his feathers and expanded his wings.

"Peter didn't assign you to this strategy of the plan," Edmund said, "I requested that he put you in it."

My horrified screech of "You WHAT?" was left on the ground as Phonnow took off into the air and soared into the starry sky. Cold, harsh wind blew small tendrils of my hair out of my helmet (Lucy tried to pin most of it up as well as she could) and made my eyes water. The ground was lost in a swirl of dark masses and the 'thwomp, thwomp' of Phonnow's wings beat the air.

"Why?" I squeaked, my voice having fallen out and was now probably spiraling towards the ground.

"Your sword lessons had me concerned," Edmund explained as we flew high in the heavens. The twinkling lights below us signaled the beginning of the city outskirts. "You did not pick up sword fighting as fast as Peter did our first time. Then we have to factor in that you are accident-prone. Susan and I decided it was better if you were not involved in the direct charge with the ground troops, nor the purposeful seeking out the guards and killing them. You can guard me while I give the signals, and if someone attacks us and proves too strong for you, I'll take over and YOU signal the troops."

"Oh," I said, in quite a different tone. "You went to all that trouble."

"I did, actually."

"You got me a good place in the battle."

"I told you I'd try."

"I guess I owe you a thank-you and an apology."

"Keep your apologies. A thank-you I can handle."

"Well, then, thank-you, Ed."

"Your welcome, Pippin."

"Don't get your hopes up, reviewers, this isn't a friendship fluff chapter!" I sighed.

"What are you talking about??" Edmund demanded.

"Nothing."

"We are within hearing distance, Sire," said Phonnow. "There is a single tower with a balcony and one door. There is also only one guard. Shall I proceed?"

"Yes," Edmund said. "Pippin, that means its time to..."

"I know, I'll be silent as the grave," I whispered.

Phonnow swooped down, drew his wings in, and shot like an arrow at such speed that my stomach also fell to the ground. I wonder if he and my voice had discussed it beforehand and both decided to play tricks on me.

The stillness of the night was such a heavy silence I felt suppressed and fought the urge to scream. I'd never felt so stressed in all my life.

Phonnow drew his head up, flapped his great wings two or three times, and alighted on the spire of the tower he mentioned. Edmund threw himself off and ducked, clinging to the shingles to keep himself from falling.

Gritting my teeth, I began to swing my leg over. Edmund shook his head and patted my leg, mouthing, "Stay there!" he made a hitting motion with his hand and mouthed, "Get down!" I leaned forward as he said and buried my face into Phonnow's rough, beige fur. I clutched the folds of skin around his shoulders to keep from falling.

Suddenly, Phonnow lurched forward so quickly I thought he'd fallen. I jerked up just in time to see his long, curved claws clutching the guard. Edmund jumped down into the balcony, taking the guards place. The guard barely had time to open his mouth and scream. Phonnow drew a claw across the man's throat, the head fell back limply while something dark gathered on his neck, and two unseeing eyes met mine.

I bit my lip as hard as I could. That was sick. It was so, awfully, sick.

Phonnow tossed the limp body off the side. The head flapped horridly as the dead man plummeted to wilderness hundreds of feet below.

Phonnow looked over his shoulder at me. "Let go of me, little one, I'll let you off," he said.

I shook my head.

Phonnow sighed, crept down to the balcony, and said, "King Edmund, get the little lady off!"

Edmund came up and slapped my hands. I let go of poor Phonnow and Edmund grasped my elbow and jerked me off.

"Slitting throats is a bit of a shock for her," Phonnow chuckled. "Well! I'll be off. I will be hovering around the turrets looking for anyone in trouble. I'll be back every few minutes."

Phonnow whirled and flew away. Edmund took my shoulders and shook them. "Shake it off, Pip! Shake it off!"

I let out a breath and gave him a strained grin.

"That's better," he said, "Are you okay now?"

I nodded.

Edmund turned and ran for the wall. "Watch the door," he said, pulling his electric torch—known to me as a flashlight—from his belt.

I drew my sword shakily and pressed against the tower entrance, staring into the dimly lit window. All I could see was the first three steps of a spiral staircase. Edmund turned his flashlight on and off for several seconds. I leaned against the wall, shaken at the killing I'd just seen.

Suddenly, there was a shadow just on the other side of the window. I sucked in my breath and felt my heart rate accelerate. I squinted my eyes to see what caused the shadow. A bat flitted by the window, and I breathed a sigh of relief.

"Sorry," Edmund said without turning his head. "I should have warned you about the bats."

"I actually like bats," I hissed. "I think they are adorable and fuzzy and have the cutest beady eyes. It just scared me, that's all."

Soon, we heard the telltale _thwomp, thwomp _of griffin wings as Caspian, Peter, and Susan swooped in. Edmund directed them with his light beam to a wall station. They disappeared into a breath of fog, and we heard two or three startled cries—the clang of swords—then a second round of dreary silence. I hiccupped.

"Now what?" I said. I hiccupped again.

"We watch the door and what is happening below," Edmund stated, twirling his flashlight in his hands in that drummer way. "The ground troops are probably half-way across the plain by now. When the drawbridge is lowered, we'll signal them to charge. Then we'll go down and join the battle."

"You make it sound so simple," I mumbled.

"It is simple," said Edmund in a lordly tone, tossing his flashlight in the air and catching it. "I came up with a lot of the sneaky parts of this plan." He tossed the flashlight a second time, missed it, reached out with his left to catch it, the flashlight hit his palm and bounced off. For one horrible second, I thought he was going to catch it and we'd both laugh over the close call.

He didn't.

The flashlight went over the wall. Edmund drew his head away from the wall quickly. Both he and I heard the terrible clatter of the torch hitting the balcony a level below us.

"Crap!" I said.

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**Hey, sorry, but I have to do the Night Raid in two parts—there's just so much material to cover! Sorry for the cliffie, but most of you know what happens anyway. Stay tuned!**


	10. A Series of Unfortunate Circumstances

**Dear Reviewers;**

**Hello there! I can't believe you've made it to 150 reviews! I am utterly flabbergasted. I am going to keep this short so I can jump right into my writing. I've discovered a pattern: the faster I update, the happier the reviewers, and the happier reviewers, the faster I update!! I'm not entirely sure how that dizzying equation got started…**

**God Bless,**

**Fool of a Took**

**PS: That was actually my original penname. But somebody else got it first. :-(**

**PPS: Like before, this chapter is rated T. T for violence. ooooh!**

**PPPS: I know in the movie the griffins were very small and barely able to hold one human with their claws. In MY version, they are the size of a medium weight dragon and perfectly able to hold two small humans on its back. Sorry if there was any confusion. **

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**Disclaimer: I own Pippin, Shade, Phonnow…and Edmund's flashlight, but he doesn't know it yet. MUAHAHAHAHA. **

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**Chapter 10, A Series of Unfortunate Circumstances**

"You dropped the frickin flashlight," I whispered in horror.

"I know," Edmund said, crawling for the door. "Let's go get it." He stood and kicked open the door. He then disappeared into the dark stairwell.

"Oh, Dimwalt and Drummer boys!" I cursed like Trumpkin, following him. I ran down the stairs, tripping over nearly every step, and finally collided with Edmund.

"Hey!" he turned and hissed, his face illuminated lightly by an orange glow from a torch farther below. "Hush! There's a Telmarine guard just below this window. He's got my torch."

I peered around him and watched the Telmarine fiddle with the peculiar object until he turned it on and screeched, nearly blinding himself.

Suddenly, a clanging alarum bell rang into the night. Shouts erupted and people began pouring out of doors in the levels below like ants invading a kitchen.

"They've been alerted!" I cried. "Get it now!!"

Edmund took a breath and fell from the windowsill, knocking the guard down to his hands and knees. He drew his sword and lunged. The guard dropped the torch and drew his own sword, and soon they were at it hammer and tongs. Edmund was completely on the offensive, attacking with ferocity and a rather frightening face. Their swords clanged and rang shrilly.

"Uh, I think, I ought," without thinking, I jumped out of the window too. I landed on my feet first, pitched forward, and threw my hands forward to break the rest of the fall. Something popped in my right hand. I looked down at it and my pointer finger was bent the wrong direction.

"Oh, snickerdoodles, ouch ouch ouch!" I cussed, pulling my sword out unsteadily with my left hand. If I ever put my right hand at a strange angle, my pointer finger dislocated itself, and I should have thought about it beforehand. The gloves didn't really help any. As if they could.

The guard used his body weight to knock Edmund backwards, their blades pressed together. It was like an arm wrestling contest, except the guard had Edmund shoved up against the wall and I could tell Edmund was really straining.

Just then, Peter's voice came from the main courtyard below. "NOW, ED, NOW!" he screamed, his dark form running by. "SIGNAL THE TROOPS!"

"I'm a bit _BUSY_, PETE!" Edmund hollered back. He jerked and obviously did a trick he had not taught me. The guard fell backwards with a growl, and Edmund took the advantage to swing from right to left.

"Hands…up?" I cried, holding my sword out. "Dude! Hello! You're outnumbered!"

"You can signal the troops," Edmund grunted, their swords clanging together again in an earsplitting metallic sound. "I've got this, Pip!" Suddenly his sword was knocked from his hand and clattered to the ground.

"Yeah, SURE you do!" I screeched. I ran over and picked up the electric torch, feeling bad for getting a little distracted by the duel and not doing my intended job.

"Toss it!" he shouted as he backed away from the smiling guard.

I tossed it, and it fell to his feet. The guard swung to behead him and Edmund ducked, picked up the torch, swung it up and clambered the guard in the chin. The man cried out and Edmund swung it a second time, but this aim collided with a sickening thud in the guard's temple. He fell to the ground, unconscious.

"NOW signal," I said, shaking. I started giggling uncontrollably, something I tended to do when I had too much adrenaline than what was healthy for a person of my size.

"Oh no," Edmund moaned, pressing the button. The light didn't turn on.

"No!" I exclaimed. "Give that to me!" I ripped it from his hands, tapped it twice, and made sure the head was screwed on all the way. It wasn't. I screwed it as tightly as it would go and bashed it against the wall once. Then I turned it on, and the beam shot off into the night until it bounced off a bank of fog. I turned if off, than on again.

"Electronics," Ed muttered.

"Leave it to professionals," I said haughtily, giving the signal two more times.

Just then, we heard the throaty cry of "CHARGE!" from below.

"They're coming in," I said, handing the flashlight to Edmund.

"Thanks," he muttered.

I began to giggle again.

"What?" he asked.

"Oh, nothing," I spluttered. "Hehehehe! My finger feels like bread for giants, my legs feel like jello, and I'm awfully ticklish!"

"Oh, come OFF it," Edmund grabbed my hand and jerked me towards the end of the battlement where we came to a dead end.

"The finger," I warned.

"Bear with it for now and we'll fix it when we're done!" Edmund said, leaning against a tiled ceiling and looking down at the battle.

I gazed down in horror. Screams and shouts filled the air, the clash of weapons echoed, and bodies writhed in a locked mass in the dark yard. Suddenly, on a thin walkway just below the tiled roof we looked over, a long line of crossbowmen filed out and aimed into the throng of soldiers and Narnians.

"That one has his sights on Peter!" Ed whispered. "Stay here!" he leaped over the peak of the roof, slid down it like a slide feet first, and hit the bowmen in the back. With a cry, the man flipped over the wall of the walkway. Letting out a long yell, he crashed to the ground below.

Edmund was now standing at the end of a long line of people with weapons—the kinds you didn't have to be close in order for it to kill you.

"ED!" shouted Peter's voice. Edmund, realizing his danger, darted to the left and fell into an open doorway. All the bowmen aimed and fired.

"EDMUND!" I screeched. The door slammed shut, and I have no idea if Ed were dead or alive on the other side of it. The guards looked towards my voice, but I ducked and crawled away.

_Crap, crap, crap, _I thought. I wanted to fall apart and cry—I hadn't realized how much I loved Edmund like a brother until I knew he could possibly be dead! Or, maybe I just loved him like a friend. If it had been MY little brother, who is only a few years younger than Edmund, I'd probably fall to the ground and scream until I died of a stress attack. _So maybe I don't love him like a brother. Maybe more like…an adopted friend cousin brother ish._

"Now what?" I said, finding a door in the side of a tower. "Just explore?" I had to find some way to get down into the battle. That's what I was supposed to do, right? I couldn't just hang out in the rafters, point and laugh, and eat popcorn.

I kicked open the door and ran down a steep, winding staircase, the same staircase Ed and I had leapt from minutes ago—but a level lower. I came out into a long, stone hall. It was deadly quiet and a few torches gave tiny spots of light down the hallway. It was too quiet! _The battle must be over and I was left behind!_

I rushed down the hall. Suddenly, a Telmarine walked around the corner. He was dressed in light armor and carried a spear—he was only one of those fancy dudes who walked the halls at night and spouted off what time it was, most likely.

He saw me, gave a start, and held out his spear. "Drop your weapon, spy!" he barked at me.

"I'm not even holding my weapon, you idiot," I shouted back. "But now that you remind me…" I drew my sword and clutched it tightly with both hands, despite my throbbing finger.

"Hello," I said in my poor attempt of Caspian's accent. "My name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my father. Prepare to die."

"I did not kill your father," the man cried, his eyes darting from side to side. "How could you have known…you couldn't! No one was there but I!" he drew his spear back over his shoulder as if to throw it. "YOU LIE!"

I cocked my head. "You mean, you really DID kill my father?" I kept the accent, just in case.

"It…it was long ago! It couldn't be! The Montoya family died out years ago! He never had a son!"

I began laughing really, really hard.

"It is no laughing matter! You've accused me of murder!" shouted the Telmarine.

"And you just called me a boy!" I stopped laughing immediately. "Uh…even though I'm…um…almost a man! You are undoubtedly the…um…most INTERESTING Telmarine I've ever met. Okay, I promise not to tell anyone you…snort…killed my father if you point me in the right direction to the courtyard. I promise to leave right away!"

"You'll tell no one? And you are not here to extract your revenge?" said the Telmarine in disbelief.

"Uh…" I raised my eyebrows. "If you let me down to the courtyard, I swear on my fathers grave I will not hunt down you--nor your children--and give you the most torturous, painful death I contrived in my dreams for the past—uh—couple of days."

The Telmarine lowered his spear. "Very well. It's to the right, down the flight of stairs."

I didn't answer. I kept my sword aimed for his neck as I skirted around him and took off at a dead run for the staircase he spoke of.

"I think I posses a gift to talk my way out of anything!" I declared to myself, feeling rather good. "Oh, if only Jack Sparrow could have witnessed that!"

I clambered down the wide set of stairs and threw open the door at the bottom of it. What I saw on the other side wiped the smile from my face and drained every good feeling I could ever possess from me. I'm pretty sure there was a puddle of good feelings on the ground where I left them, and I'm sure they are still there to this day. Maybe it will make someone happy someday when they stumble upon a pile of good feelings on the ground, but I doubt I will ever know of it. I am getting worse about tangents. To continue.

Before me was a scene I wish I could erase from my mind. There were two or three bodies (both Narnian and Telmarine) just in front of me. Puddles of dark blood were spreading slowly on the ground. There was a tangy, unpleasant smell in the air. Just after that were several groups fighting. The swords were making that awful high-pitched ringing sound, like fingernails on chalkboard. People were shouting and screaming incoherently as they all tried to fulfill the exact same mission: kill your enemy.

This wasn't a sneaky raid on a Telmarine stronghold. We'd walked into a butchers' shop!

I realized, as a Telmarine soldier began running for me, that I'd never killed someone before. In the next two in a half seconds, I'd be a murderer. I would have taken someone's life—it was like trying to do God's job. This was a battle, wasn't it? I was _supposed_ to kill people. Wasn't that what a battle was, anyway? Try and kill as many people as you can until they don't have enough to protest your wishes? Was I ready for this? There wasn't really time to think.

The Telmarine was at me now, his sword was ready to crash down on top of my unprotected skull. I stepped aside like I had with Edmund, but this man was quicker than Edmund. He merely adjusted the angle of the blade and swiped against my arm. The blade crashed against my armor with a metallic clang.

"YIPES!" I screamed, wildly throwing my sword around and hoping it would do some damage. The Telmarine stepped back from range, looking amused.

"You're a bit young to be in battle, aren't you, little boy?" he asked.

"Enough with that, already!" I snapped, stepping backwards. He was too big and too fast. I knew I wasn't going to make it with this guy…

Suddenly, he fell over with an arrow shaft vibrating in his neck. Blood splurged upwards and outwards like a fountain display. The Narnian must have hit an artery.

"Oh, oh my gah…Oh my gosh, that's disgusting!" I turned and ran from the body.

Suddenly, a dark form of a soldier was in front of me. He was fighting with someone, so he was obviously concentrating and distracted to what was around him. I held my sword in front of me and ran full speed. My sword pierced the soft mail over his unprotected lower back. I felt utterly disgusted with myself—the tension seemed to flow from my blade to my shaking hands—I could almost feel the mans last, panicked thoughts as he crashed to the ground. The sword was still held inside him by the wound edges and shattered mail, so it jerked me to my knees.

He had been fighting with Peter. Peter stared at me, open-mouthed.

I jumped to me feet again and wrestled with the hilt, trying to free the weapon. Peter jumped over the body and slapped my hands away. He grasped the hilt and jerked it out, handing it back to me.

"Tha…" I started.

"DUCK!" he shouted, putting a hand on the top of my head and forcing it down. For a split second, my heated red face was pressed against the freezing cold stone pavement. It felt really, really good.

Peter stabbed the Telmarine as he leapt for me. I scrambled to stand and couldn't, so I rolled onto my back. Just then, another soldier attacked Peter. He flew over my head to get to him. The Telmarine thought I was just another body. Peter was on the offensive, so the Telmarine backed up until he was nearly stepping on my face.

Grimacing, I threw my sword up and smacked him in the buttocks with it. It made him stumble and fall to his knees, where Peter stabbed him in the gut and kicked the body backwards.

Suddenly, I was crushed under some sharp and there was total blackness.

"Gerroff me!" I said, smothered. Peter grabbed the soldiers' leg and dragged it half-way off. Then he held out his hand and helped me up. The sharp shoulder piece of the Telmarines' armor had cut into my eyebrow. Blood was dripping into my eye and making it sting. I closed my right eye and had to watch through my left.

Peter whirled and soon had another opponent. Was there anyone I could take care of? Someone, hopefully, smaller and not so experienced?

With a shock, I realized I had actually killed a person—and I was looking around for another! _And I didn't even break down! Did this make me some kind of sadistic teenage serial killer? Or was I just being a braver soldier than I thought? _I took this pause to wipe my bloody forehead against the back of my leather gloves and shove a pin back to hold my bangs out of the way. I tentatively opened my right eye and was happy to find the blood wasn't flooding it.

I didn't have wait for too long—another Telmarine attacked me with his sword flashing in the torchlight. I blocked the blow but it knocked my sword aside—his blows were too strong for me.

"If you're a better wrestler than you are a fencer…" I recalled Edmund telling me.

"Why don't we finish eachother off—sportsman like? No weapons?" I shouted to the soldier. _Dang, what was WITH the Princess Bride quotes tonight?_

"AAAAARG!" screamed the man ferociously, lunging for me again. I stepped to the side, and for the first time, began to assess his fighting style. I'd never thought about it before. He seemed big and heavy, he may tire faster, or he may rely on strength and not on speed…

Every time he made a move, I began doing something weird with my feet. I was darting from side to side, trying to avoid his blows. I hoped it wasn't cowardly, but I had no other choice. This guy had to be six foot five, at least. I weaved around in circles, escaping death every few milliseconds but always wondering if they were my last.

"You know," I said to the Telmarine, "We're practically dancing!"

The man cracked an evil smile and let out a huge guffaw. "I'm glad you saved your last dance for ME!" he raised his sword over his head, leaving his belly unguarded. I swung for his belly, but at the last minute, changed angles. His chest plate was really thick—it looked like a frickin Ironman costume.

My sword swung up—instead of straight. As soon as I was sure my sword was about to cross from his right ear, through an eye, and to the left cheekbone, I squeezed my eyes shut. _I don't want to see this_.

The Telmarine led out a horrid scream, a thick cough, his sword fell to the ground, and I dared open my eyes. He was on his knees before me, staring at me with only his left eye. The right side of his face was plastered with a bloody wound.

"Finish me off," he said hoarsely, "I can't bear it. You fought well, little girl. Please…kill me now."

"I can't," I said, and I did what any other over-stressed teenage girl does—I burst into tears.

"KILL ME!" screamed the man with such strength I took a step back.

"It was _different_ fighting," I sobbed, "Now you're unarmed and injured! I should be doing first aide! That's what I was brought up to do! I wasn't mean to stab people to death!"

The man wasn't even listening. He fell to the ground with an arrow in his chest.

"Get out of here," Susan appeared beside me. "You're just going to get yourself killed." She notched another arrow to her longbow.

"Well, thanks for finishing him off," I cried, blinking away tears. "But I'm not leaving!" I ran away from her. _If she gives me one more ounce of negativity, I swear I'll fall over and sing 'It's A Small World After All' until I die._

Just then, I noticed a soldier about to kill a writhing figure on the ground. It was a Tiger…it could even be Shade. The soldier was smiling, enjoying the moment, and taking his time. If I could just get over there before he…

I ran clumsily over and accidentally bumped into a second Telmarine. He fell forward into the point of a Faun's blade and promptly… died.

"Thanks!" called the Faun, rather heartily. I stumbled on past him and swung my sword, catching the smiling Telmarine in the ribs. He crashed over to the side, wounded, and began to crawl away.

"I thank-thee, Little Mistress Pippin," said the great Tiger, tangled in a mess of chain and lying on his side.

"Are you wounded?" I asked, panicking.

"No, I am not. It is to my disadvantage that I do not have hands!"

I saw his predicament, and began to lift the strands of chain away from him until his entangled paws were free.

"I thank-thee again," said the Tiger, "He threw this on top of me from above to ensnare me."

"Okay…" I said, in a daze. The sounds of battle felt very far away. I wondered if I was going to faint or something.

"FALL BACK!" screamed Peter's voice.

"Fall where? To my right, or on my left?" I mumbled.

"Get on my back, Little Mistress," said Shade urgently, "The gate is about to fall! I will get thee out!"

I numbly climbed over his shoulders and grabbed a handful of tangerine colored fur. "Pretty," I sighed.

"Hang on!" commanded Shade, beginning to run. He lengthened out his stride until everything was a blur beside me. He was as fast as any horse, I would say.

"Put thy head down!" shouted Shade, but whatever it was, it was too late. Something hit me in the head and the entire world flipped upside down and backwards. My head began to throb and I could have sword I saw fireworks and dancing pink elephants drinking cans of Dr. Pepper and doing the dosy-doe with a few oak trees.

Once again, the cool, refrigerated pavement hugged my face and cooled the stinging cut on my eyebrow. I forced myself to leave its icy comfort and sat up.

"Hmm, where's Edmund?" I began to laugh. "Playing Hide and Seek, is he?" I stood and turned in a lazy circle. Creatures of all shapes and sizes were running past me and out the open gate.

"Come, Pippin!" cried Shade's voice. "I am here! On the other side of the gate!"

I found the direction I was supposed to go. The gate, held high over the head of a straining Minotaur, was just twelve feet before me. _I could still make it. I was still going to get out of this alive. Whodda thunk it? _

I ran forward and made it past the Minotaur. I was standing on the bridge beside Shade under a bright moon and heavy dark clouds. It seemed all too easy…

"Thee is safe," said Shade's voice, "Climb onto my back again!"

I turned around and looked backwards. The gate fell down, the injured Minotaur pinned beneath it. Those poor animals! They were trapped! And the centaurs son! He was trapped too! The Minotaur had sacrificed himself to help the others escape.

"Pippin!" cried Shade's voice, horrified and despairing. I turned to stare at him beside me, but he was not there anymore. In fact, I did not see the bridge. I saw the frightened Narnian's faces…

Surrounding me was the interior of the courtyard.

I was still in the castle.

The horrible realization struck my gut—it was an un-happening! I was still stuck in the castle! I whirled around again, and Shade's face was pressed against the cold iron.

"Pippin, dear," he said in a tearful voice. He was on the bridge, safe, and he could escape with the rest. I was going to die here, alone.

"Go away," I said, my voice hard. "I'm fine."

"The bridge, Peter!" a voice shouted. "Jump the bridge!"

I briefly locked eyes with Peter. He sat astride a horse just beyond Shade. He had tears running down his face. His eyes widened when he saw me.

_"Pippin?"_ he mouthed in disbelief.

Suddenly, the satyr next to me fell dead with an arrow in his back. A faun leapt onto the grating and he, too, fell backwards with an arrow in his neck.

An arrow struck me in the back and bounced off my armor. I knew it was only a few seconds before I died.

Unless…

I fell to the ground, pretending to be dead. I wasn't going to die tonight. I had to get back to the U.S. sometime, right? I wasn't going down without a fight.

Even possums have clever lifetime philosophies.

Just then, I realized how awfully quiet it was. It made me sick. I lay on the ground among bleeding satyrs and fauns. I shifted my head and bumped against something hard. It was a hoof of a centaur.

I lay still, knowing I'd be dead when they came to dispose of the bodies.

"What are your orders?" said a voice nearby. I stiffened with fear.

"Leave them," said a deep voice—I could only guess it was Miraz. "We'll clean up this filth in the morning. Why should we be deprived of a good nights sleep?"

"What about MY men, sir?" said the voice in surprise.

"They were weak enough to fail me tonight by depriving my army of numbers," said Miraz, "I'm sure they can stand one more night among the other traitors."

The other man sucked in a breath, as if shocked but grief-stricken as well. "They would not be dead if you hadn't stolen my crossbow from me," he cried angrily.

There was a sound of someone hitting someone else.

"Hold your tongue," said Miraz. "Or I'll have you lying among the traitors tonight!"

Their voices died away, and all was quiet again. I heard rasping breathing down near my foot, and another breathing form about twenty feet away. There were some that were still alive—but they soon wouldn't be. I lay for what seemed like hours. I had to widen my eyes to keep myself from falling asleep. After some time, I realized it really WAS silent. All the breathing around me had stopped. Everyone was dead...but me.

Suddenly there was such a burst of hope in me I could barely keep from screaming. I heard the tell-tale _thwomp, thwomp _of griffin wings overhead.

I jumped to my feet and waved my arms wildly at the bird-like form in the sky above me.

"HEY!! PHONNOW! DOWN HERE! COME AND GET ME OUT OF HERE!" I screamed, dancing around. I came out of the shadow of the gate and stood in the very middle of the courtyard.

The griffin wheeled around.

"Who's there?" shouted a voice from the battlements. Footsteps echoed down the stairs.

"Um, Mr. Rogers," I shouted. The griffin was just diving into the courtyard.

I held out my arms like an airplane and the griffin swooped down, grasped my shoulders with its strong claws, and carried me off into the bitter cold air.

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**Well, dears, hoped you liked it! Please review!**


	11. Teasing and Tempers

**Dear Reviewers,**

**Whoo! Thanks for all those reviews! I fixed the spelling errors, for those of you who pointed them out. Thanks for that. Yes, I know the ending seemed a little dumb, but I couldn't really think of any other way of getting myself out. **

**And, you guys, don't feel bad for laughing. I did that on purpose. That's just my personality. Sorry if it didn't seem appropriate, but I always think of the funniest things at the worst possible moments. And since the battle is the worst you can get pretty much, the funnier I tend to be. You probably think I'm a freak now! Oh wait! You probably already do! SNAP!**

**Thanks,**

Pip

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**Chapter 11, Teasing and Tempers**

My eyes watered profusely as the cold wind whipped my hair from the pins and dried the tears in paths down my cheeks. I relaxed and just let the griffin support my waist in his long curled claws.

"Hey," said a kind voice. I looked up and Edmund was peering down at me from the Griffin's back.

"Hey," I said back, not even bothering to throw a tantrum about how worried I was for him.

"You alright?" he asked.

"Well enough," I replied. We fell into silence again. Below us, Peter galloped along and looked up at us. His face broke into a grim smile, but it quickly fell away and he turned back and concentrated on his riding.

"How did you do?" Edmund asked me.

"Ed," I sighed, "For once, I feel entirely speechless. Normally I could talk an ear off a chimpanzee, but not now. What's the point? You saw all the same things I did. Killing, blood, decapitation, screaming…"

"I think you can STILL talk an ear off a chimpanzee, in fact, you're kind of doing it right now."

"See what you make me do?" I accused.

I could almost hear him smiling. "I'm just glad you're alive."

"Fluffy," I said, "Entirely made of fluff. Friendship fluff. Fluffy, fluffy…"

"How many times were you hit in the head?" Edmund asked casually.

"Two times," I replied, "Perhaps three. I remember two for sure. It could be more."

"Okay."

"I'm glad you're alive too."

"I was waiting for that. Thanks."

"No need to sound sarcastic."

"I wasn't being sarcastic."

"Fine. So, Ed, what are we going to do now?"

"We're all going to regroup in the woods and head back. Phonnow can't carry us all night. They weren't exactly built for this—carrying human weight for more than a few hours, I mean. Especially two humans."

"Darn," I quipped. There was another comfortable quiet. The city disappeared and the small dark blob of an army moved onto the plains. In a few moments, we were in the dark woods. Phonnow had to wheel around in wide circles like a vulture until he found a clearing wide enough to dip into. With a rush of wind, suddenly I felt the presence of my stomach again with a twinge, and my feet touched solid, grassy earth.

"I love you, I could kiss you," I said, falling to my knees.

"I beg your pardon?" said Edmund, dismounting Phonnow and patting his shoulder.

I kissed the ground and then spit the pieces of grass and pine needles away. "I have been without you for far too long," I collapsed the rest of the way and sighed with contentment. "Not YOU, Ed, the GROUND."

"Where's Ed?" said Peter's voice. A campfire was lit nearby; and small clusters of Narnian soldiers gathered in various places throughout the woods and began taking off armor, bandaging wounds, and taking swigs of water from canteens. A few people fell into each other's arms and began crying softly.

I sat up, resting my elbows on my knees and not really knowing what to do.

"He's over there, your Highness," said a faun, looking up from where he wrapped a bandage around the bare arm of another faun. He pointed the direction.

Soon, Peter stepped into the moonlit clearing where Ed was shedding his arm guards, breastplate, and mail shirt. He ran over to him and jerked him into a hug.

I looked away, feeling like I was intruding on one of those private brotherly love moments.

"Are you alright? Are you hurt at all?" Peter asked him, pulling back and looking into his face with a hand on either shoulder.

"No, I'm fine," Edmund replied. "What about you? Where's Susan?"

"Susan's fine," Peter answered, "She's with the General right now. His son…" Peter choked up and couldn't finish his sentence. "And Edmund, I'm sorry, but your little friend…I saw her, by the gate, and she fell, and I…"

"My little friend? Who's that?" asked Edmund, confused.

I gasped with indignation.

"Pippin," said Peter, "I'm sorry, Ed. She didn't make it."

"She did," Edmund gave him a half-smile. "Phonnow got her out of that hell-hole. In fact, she's sitting over there, pretending not to be listening but actually is."

"Really?" Peter whirled around and broke into a little smile. He trotted over, knelt down, and gave me a hug.

"Good to see you too," I smiled at him.

"How are you?" he asked seriously. "Are you hurt at all?"

"No, not at all," I replied, "Oh, wait, hold on."

I ripped off my right glove. My dislocated finger wasn't nearly as bad as the time I once held a pencil too tightly and popped it out of place. I used my left hand and popped it back in, wincing at the sound it made. The throbbing immediately ceased and the swelling began to go down.

"Okay," I said, putting my glove back on. "Now I can say it. I'm not hurt at all."

Peter had a rather disgusted look but quickly wiped it away. "Good, good," he said, patting my shoulder.

"Didn't you see me and Ed, though?" I asked, a little confused on my part.

"I saw Ed," Peter confessed, "I'm sorry, Pippin. I thought you were a dwarf."

I rolled my eyes. "If it weren't for the facial hair, I'd think nothing of it. I can only guess you couldn't see my face, even in the extraordinarily bright moonlight. Perhaps you just weren't looking—or you were, but you weren't seeing—maybe it was only the stress factor. Stress makes me look older and hairier than I am sometimes."

Peter stood up and walked back over to Ed. "I think she got hit in the head," he whispered. "Keep an eye on her."

My mouth fell open. "Gah," I snorted indignantly, again.

"Who is that I hear?" said a deep, rolling voice. "Could it be? Mistress Pippin! I thought thee had perished!" Suddenly, I was knocked to the ground by a huge tiger head.

I wrapped my arms around the striped neck and squeezed. "Edmund and Phonnow got me out," I explained quickly.

Shade pulled back, his warm fiery eyes blinking quickly. "It is good to see thee alive, little Pippin."

"You too," I smiled at him. Wow, it was like having my own Rajah. Except he wasn't a trained dumb beast, he was like a solemn, kind protector with his own personality. Plus he could speak English.

"Sorry to break this up," Edmund came over to us. "But its time to get back."

I stood and began shedding pieces of armor, not entirely sure if I was doing it correctly since Lucy wasn't there to help. Now I was just wearing my ordinary jeans and an odd shirt. A faun came trotting by, holding a knapsack bag for me to distribute the pieces in. When I finished, he handed me the bag, and I slung it over my shoulder.

I could hear Edmund wandering around the temporary camp, calling, "Time to go! Grab what you need and put out that fire! Get the wounded on horses!"

"Ed," said Peter from some distance away, "Trumpkin's hurt. He's pretty bad. Where's my horse?"

"She's over here."

"Why don't you bring her over. Trumpkin can lie in the saddle. I'll walk."

"Where's Caspian?" Susan's voice.

"He's over there, Susan," Peter said in a strained voice. "Su?" there was a pause. "His arm is fine. Why don't you leave him alone?"

"Just because you're angry with him doesn't mean I have to be," Susan snapped.

I joined them while Shade stayed by my side silently.

Edmund gave me a quick glance as he helped poor Trumpkin onto the back of Peter's horse. Peter turned and looked at me, but his face was dark and angry. His eyebrows were down farther than I thought was physically possible and he was paler than I realized before.

"Um, Peter," I started to say.

"Please," he held up a hand. "Don't. I know."

"I was just going to ask," I continued, "where you wanted me to go?"

"You can walk with us," Edmund said hastily. "Peter?"

"Yes, yes," Peter replied, suddenly distracted. He patted his horse lightly and she joined the line of Narnians moving through the woods.

"Fare thee well, for now, Little Mistress," said Shade, giving me a small nudge. "I would have thee on my back again but alas, I am heavily weary."

"Thank-you, Shade," I leaned and wrapped my arms around his neck a second time. "You've been amazing."

With a rumble in his throat, Shade's heavy paws carried him to his place in line.

We began to walk. It felt like an endless walk. I was so tired and jittery. Moments from the battle kept replaying themselves inside my head and visions kept popping up. _A scream. A spray of blood. A falling body. A shivering arrow. A frightened Narnian. The gate slamming to the ground, crushing the Minotaur and trapping us inside. Miraz's grating, sneering voice. _

"Pippin," said Peter's voice, breaking my thoughts. "Why are you wearing my shirt?"

I looked down. "Oh, now _how _did THAT get there?"

Peter waited, his voice was very tense, but I could tell he was trying to ease his turmoil thoughts. He may have also been trying to distract himself from sending Caspian murdering glances. _What the heck HAPPENED with them?_

"Lucy handed it to me," I confessed finally. "This is your boarding school uniform shirt, huh?"

"Yes."

"Aha," I scooted to his side. "Peter," I asked, "What HAPPENED back there? Why are you so upset with Casp—er—Prince Caspian?"

"Well, we were supposed to split up," Peter said, his voice angry and louder than necessary. "Caspian was supposed to get the gate open. Susan and I were going to capture Miraz. Caspian ignored his part of the plan. First, he rescued the Doctor Cornelius," he pointed. I saw a dejected, tired looking Santa Claus walking beside Caspian. Caspian had an arm around the elderly man's shoulders. "And then," Peter continued, "He went to revenge Miraz for killing his father. I just don't understand why—how—he could have done that to us!"

"Sometimes your emotions take over your actions," I said, and for some reason, I sounded Padme Amidala. "I've seen you do it too, you know."

"There's a time for getting emotional," Peter said, his voice thickening. "A battle is not one of those times!" suddenly, tears were running down his face.

"You save it for afterwards?" I asked casually.

"A little," said Peter.

"You're still saving up, aren't you?" I asked sadly. "You are bottling things up right now. Then you're going to blow up. And at Caspian, most likely."

He didn't answer.

"Don't say something you'll regret," I warned, "Is it really so hard to be forgiving in this situation? Do YOU know what it's like to lose a father?"

"His father has been dead for years," Peter argued, "If he is going to be king of Narnia, the place that I love more than anything in the universe, he should be thinking of its wants and needs—not his personal wish for revenge!"

"That is true," I replied, "But did you ever think that he ISN'T ready to be King, but Aslan wants him King despite immaturity? Whoa, I'm getting Tolkienish here. I dunno, I've heard a good fifty years as a Ranger in the North does wonders for future Kings!"

"You make no sense."

"Would you have me be any other way?"

"Just a little less."

"Not a chance, you pointy-eared elvish…princeling."

Peter cracked a smile.

"There, that's what I wanted," I grinned. "Come on. You have a lot to be thankful for. Your family lived through the battle, and despite foolishness, Caspian did too. You're doing your best and that's all you can do. You should be…um…content."

"It's not as simple as you think."

"No, you just complicate things. A lot."

"If you don't stop arguing with me, I am going to lose my temper with you, Pippin. And right now, you are the one who deserves it least of all. It was brave of you to come tonight, just so you know." Peter shrugged his shoulders. "We didn't ask you to come, but you came anyway. So, for your own good, why don't you let me wallow for awhile in my anger before I spill it out on you."

"Very well, your Majesty," I said rather stiffly. "Just trying to help."

"I know. And I appreciate it. But it isn't working right now and I all want to do is kill something."

"That's a little over the top."

"Pippin, please…"

"Alright, alright, I'm leaving. Or at least I will soon. I feel that I ought to just walk right here and let you brood like an elderly hen. Maybe I'll just watch you and make sure you do nothing rash."

"I assure you, that won't be necessary."

"But it may be. You are pale, your hand keeps straying to the hilt of your sword, and my dad would say that you shouldn't put your eyebrows like that or they will stick that way. You look all around murderous. I think I'll just watch you."

"Go away, Pip."

"Are you getting annoyed? You look annoyed. But it's okay. Annoyance is better than murderous. Would you rather bark or bite? I mean, really?"

"I am going to stop talking to you, Pippin. For now, I mean."

"Who says I need two parties to have a conversation? I am perfectly capable of continuing to speak without your help. Isn't the moon lovely tonight? I know you are sad. It's okay. I'm sad too. I've never been in a battle before, and I feel so weird about it. I want to do something for the people who died, but I can't. They were so…brave. Are we going to host some kind of honorary funeral for those who passed? Sorry, I saw that wince. And I'm not being cruel. I am being serious. I want to know. Stop wincing. It wasn't your fault. There are always losses in battle. I can tell you blame yourself. Actually, you feel guilty, but you are going to BLAME Caspian. I can see what you're planning. I have three words of advice: don't do it."

Silence.

"I'm sleepy now," I said, "I'm going to sleep walk for awhile. See you in the morning." I turned away from him and walked slowly so that I fell back in line. Peter looked at me over his shoulder; his eyes smoldering with unshed tears and a defiant—but not angry—look. I stared back until he focused on the trail again.

"Jolly good, Pip," said Ed sarcastically in my ear. "I think he is even more upset than he was."

"Upset for better reasons," I snapped, "If he does something stupid we can all sigh and say, 'well, at least Pippin tried to give him a pep talk'. If we all were good little children and shut up when we were told, and THEN he did something rash, we could only sigh and say 'Darn, we should have tried to talk while we had a chance'."

"You have the strangest logic."

"So do possums, trees with rhythm capabilities, and cranky swashbuckling mice. But I rarely hear any one complain about it."

"Maybe because THEY all don't have some kind of stunted growth disease," Edmund chuckled enormously.

My mouth dropped open. "That is the meanest thing that any one has…I can't believe you…oh my!" I clenched my teeth together and hissed through them; "Only smart people get the disease. Which would certainly explain YOUR excessive height."

"_Touché_," Edmund answered.

"That was so mean," I muttered. "I would have expected a comment like that from a lot of people, but definitely not you."

"Was it too much?"

"Not at all," I said flippantly, "Nothing hurts my feelings."

"I'm sorry, Pippin."

"Don't apologize, but next time, you need to remember the rules of chivalry. You must CHALLENGE me to a verbal war officially, give me some time to prepare. I will not lie to you, I am a professional, and I will kick your butt."

Edmund chuckled lightly and we fell back into silence. A gray light began to form in the bowl of blackness over our heads. We reached the river crossing just as the sun peeped over the mountains, but a gray thick cloud cover kept its warm rays from reaching us. It merely bathed the earth in a neutral, cold light.

The air was thick with morning dew, and a chilly—but highly refreshing breeze—rushed over the returning army. I longed to get my feet on more familiar ground, but dreaded seeing the waiting families back at the How.

We crossed the shallow river, some distance away from where the Telmarines had set up a large camp and were busy logging like beavers. The water was shallow for everyone—but me. All the small animals, mice and badgers and such, hitched a ride on the larger animals. I was left to fend for myself and fell face-first into the icy water. The palms of my hands scraped on the rocks, but that was no matter. I had, disgustingly, tried to forget about showers for the last few days, but I could ignore it no longer. I felt like a walking smelly sasquatch.

"Get up, Pippin," said Edmund, grasping my elbow. "You're armor will rust. Hold that bag OUT of the water."

"One moment," I said, squeezing my eyes shut and thrusting my head underwater. I scrubbed at my scalp with my fingers and came up spluttering.

"There…that's…better…"

"You idiot, that's cold, you'll catch a cold," Edmund argued.

"If she wants to get sick, let her," said Susan stiffly from the back of a Talking Horse.

"Don't be such a wet blanket, Sue," replied Edmund. "She hasn't been the only one concerned with personal hygiene lately."

Susan sniffed. "Nonsense."

"Do you SEE me getting out a bar of soap and a towel, your Worshipfulness?" I spat, wiping water from my eyes and raking my fingers through my hair to try and untangle it.

"Let's move on, you're holding up the line," Susan said archly, patting her horse on the shoulder.

"I am doing nothing of the sort," replied her Horse indignantly.

"Not you, I am speaking about Pippin," Susan corrected.

"Well, that's are very well and howdy-to-do," said the Horse loftily. "But I could use a good rubbing down myself. I don't suppose when we get back you'd be happy to oblige?"

"If I'm not busy," Susan said nonchalantly.

"She may be busy," Edmund said apologetically, "Because WE," he added the second part threateningly. "NEED to talk."

Susan met his eyes uncomfortably. "Whatever you say, Royal Brother," she said softly. Her Horse made the clever decision to pull ahead at that moment.

"Hopefully not on my account," I said, trudging through the shallows and shaking wet hair from my eyes.

"No," Edmund replied distantly, "She's been off on this whole journey. Something is eating her up, and I can't figure out what it is. She is acting like the old, grown-up Susan before we ever discovered this place."

"Concerned with nothing but equations and winning the next track meet?" I suggested.

"Yes, exactly."

We moved out of the river, the army growing quieter and quieter with each step through the woods. They all dreaded returning to wives, mothers, sisters, and cousins as much as I. I heard. Just then, a breeze blew whiffs of an angry discussion from somewhere ahead.

"Edmund," I hissed in a warning voice.

"What?" he turned towards me, suddenly very serious.

"Peter is being rash," was all I needed to say.

Edmund looked at his elder brother. Peter and Caspian were at the very front of the line, apparently in a heated discussion.

"You don't even want to apologize?" Peter was growling.

"There is more to this whole war than your singular minded politics of winning or losing," Caspian protested. "There are other things at stake here!"

"Like your personal concerns for revenge that have NOTHING to do what is best for this country?"

"I was not interested in REVENGE, I was quite interested in learning the TRUTH! Such things are necessary for success, don't you think?"

"Putting the entire raid at stake wasn't my idea of the noble enterprise you call learning the truth."

"Putting together the entire raid was when things first began to go wrong," Caspian cried, "It was a stupid idea and you foolishly disregarded my knowledge of the castle layouts, the odds, and the professionally trained soldiers we'd be dealing with."

"What else was there to do? Sit in the tomb and wait for the whole thing to collapse around us? The provisions were running low and you wouldn't admit it to your people—that was your first mistake!"

"I don't think it WAS my first mistake," Caspian hinted.

"What are you getting at, Caspian?" Peter barked.

"Excuse me!" Edmund called, rushing forward. He got between the two little roosters and tried to smooth feathers. "We're hurt and weary," Edmund said calmly. "This shifting of the blame back and forth will do no one any good and it won't bring back those who died. Get OVER yourselves. You're not only upsetting those within hearing distance but you are making ME really angry. Shutup, both of you. The battle is over. BOTH of you made mistakes—yes, BOTH of you!" Peter looked incredulous.

"YOU," Edmund pointed at Caspian. "Didn't stick to the plan when you were supposed to. AND YOU!" Edmund put a hand on Peter's shoulder. "You didn't call it off early enough. Both of these mistakes caused a heavy loss and certainly damaged what could have been a jolly good friendship."

Both of the boys were silent.

"That's better," Edmund took two steps back. "Call it pax for now. Please."

"Your Majesty," said a faun, brushing past me and running to Edmund. "Trumpkin the Dwarf is calling for you."

"Right away," Edmund turned away from our little Royal Pains in the Butt. He gave me a look as he walked by and shook his head, as if to say, "I can't believe them—can you?"

I sighed in reply and walked quickly until I was walking between the two boys.

We broke out of the woods and onto the cold green plain. It had rained here recently, the stones in the middle of the field were wet and shining. There was a soggy, soaked vegetation smell in the air.

When we finally emerged on the other side, Lucy ran out to meet us, her face torn with worry and her innocent eyes clouded.

"What happened?" she asked worriedly.

"Ask HIM," Peter said rigidly, jerking his head at Caspian.

"Peter!" scolded Susan.

"Me?" Caspian asked in disbelief. "You could have called it off. There was still time."

"But there wasn't thanks to you," said Peter, his voice beginning to grow husky. "If you'd kept to the plan, those satyrs might still be alive right now,"

"And if you'd just stayed here like I suggested they definitely would be!" Caspian argued.

"You called US, remember?" Peter cried.

"My first mistake," Caspian said coolly, and now we all knew what he had wanted to say before Edmund interrupted.

"No," Peter said, almost tearfully, "You're first was ever thinking you could lead these people." He turned to walk away.

"HEY!" Caspian shouted ferociously. Peter whirled around. "I am not the one who ABANDONED Narnia," Caspian spat.

"You invaded Narnia," Peter pointed at him. "You have no more right than Miraz does!" Caspian shoved past him. I ran to Peter's side.

"Peter, stop it," I hissed.

"You, him, your FATHER!" Peter continued. I scooted up to try and appeal to Caspian's sense of intelligence. Caspian froze at the mention of his father.

"Narnia's better off without the lot of you!" Peter shouted angrily.

Suddenly Caspian drew his sword, Peter drew his, and I was standing between the two fighting roosters again but this time with a pair of swords crisscrossed over my head.

"Stop it!" Edmund shouted from somewhere in the back.

"Yeah, stop it," I added for good measure. "I didn't go completely suicidal and fight for Narnia in the middle of the night only to get beheaded by grumpy royalty! You could have killed me! Why don't you two think before you act?"

Peter and Caspian lowered their swords apologetically.

"That's better, if you want to dispatch me I suggest you do it in private!" I growled and frustration and began to stomp away.

"Lucy, Trumpkin needs your cordial," Edmund called.

Nikabrik looked at me as I tromped by and let out a fierce, almost cruel, chuckle.

I sat down on the stone wall and watched sullenly as Caspian walked dejectedly into the How, and Lucy performed her healing powers on poor, unconscious Trumpkin.

Peter caught my eye and mouthed, "I'm sorry."

My eyebrows furrowed and I just shook my head and looked away.

"A house divided against itself cannot stand," I quoted to myself helplessly.

"How right you are, Miss," said Nikabrik, "How right you are." He turned and went into the How.

I heard a slight whimper, and looked up, only to see a beautiful She-Centaur sobbing softly.

Lucy came back from her Doctor Doings and sat next to me.

"Was it really so awful?" she asked quietly.

"Take the nastiest you can imagine," I told her, "And it will most likely be worst."

"Let's get you some breakfast," she stood and held out her hand.

I took it and followed her inside the cave entrance. Soon, the dim light hugged us and erased the sobbing and cries outside. I felt rather homesick.

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**There you go, my little dumplings! Enjoy! Please point out any spelling erros, they are the bane of my existence. This is my longest chapter yet! 4,596 words! My my my. Perhaps I could get 4,596 reviews?? Well, hmmm, okay, maybe not. How about we try and get...twenty?? lol**


	12. Jadis Returns

**Dear Everybody,**

**My gosh! I can't believe it! We're only on a dozen chapters and we've already got over two hundred reviews! That's incredible! You guys sure do know how to keep me inspired. You know what's going to end up happening? I'll probably finish this fan fiction entirely and then won't update the others until it is all done.**

**Thanks as ever,**

**Pippin**

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**PS: Oh, don't worry, the un-happenings will be back with even greater revenge than last time. Hence this chapter. ;-o**

**PPS: "A house divided against itself cannot stand" is actually from the Bible, but Abe Lincoln did quote it. **

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**Disclaimer: I dedicate this chapter to Monkey, who is lending me a plot bunny for my safekeeping. Does it like carrots?**

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**Chapter Twelve, Jadis Returns**

Lucy and I sat and ate a dry hunk of bread each, sipped some water from wooden cups, and chewed pieces of cheese. It was a plain, low fat kind of breakfast, just the kind I liked. I felt my eyelids growing heavy.

"What time is it?"

"An hour past dawn," Lucy answered.

I glanced at her. "And that would be _what_?"

"Between five and six," Lucy shook her head and smiled at me.

"Okay," I finished my breakfast and wiped the crumbs from my hands. "I'm going to go find the loo. I managed to find it last night before we left for the raid, but…"

"Let me show you," laughed Lucy, leading me down a dank tunnel no taller than I was. We rounded a corner and there was a small wooden door.

"In there," she gestured, then she left me.

"This tomb is getting creepier and creepier," I muttered, opening the wooden door. There was a hole in the ground, water dripping from a crack in the wall, and a tiny raw bar of handmade soap.

With some difficulty, I answered natures calling, and struggled with the rusty latch on the little wooden door, and let myself out into the hall.

It was then that I heard the scariest thing I could ever imagine.

Somewhere to my left, the opposite direction from which Lucy and I had walked, the tunnel sloped until it was only a crawl space.

From inside of it came a voice more rasping and deep than Darth Vader did himself.

"I'm hunger," said the grating voice, "I'm thirst. I can fast for a hundred days and not starve."

I fell to my hands and knees and crawled into the crawlspace, seeing a flickering light inside.

"I can lie a hundred days on the ice and not freeze," said the Voice.

I shivered and found a tiny hole, just big enough to use as a window.

I found I was looking into the Stone Table room. There were a few large rocks in the way. I could almost see the top of Caspian's head.

"I can drink a river of blood and not burst," said the Voice.

_What is Edward Cullen doing in Narnia?_ My stomach flipped with nausea—this was most likely NOT a vampire. I didn't remember any vampires being in this country—then again, Edmund never remembered ruins, either.

I craned my neck and beheld most of the scene—Caspian was looking at a cloaked figure—two figures actually. One was hopping around and drifting from side to side, like an old woman with major ADHD. The other was almost as tall as Caspian with a peculiar snout sticking out the hood.

"Show…me…" said the Voice, pausing for dramatic effect. "YOUR ENEMIES!" the taller figure whipped the hood from his head, and I could barely keep myself from squealing with surprise. _It was a ginormous wolf thing!_

His face was, to put it plainly, very scary. His eyes glimmered and his teeth were bared. He growled deep in his throat and it made the hair on the back of my neck raise. Goosebumps ran up and down my arms.

"What you will hate, so will we," said the old woman, swaying her arms back and forth, like a nervous bird sitting on a branch. "No one haaates better than ussss!" her voice was dripping with snake-like qualities. It was high-pitched and also hoarse sounding.

_Not human_, I decided_, Female, and old, but this was not an old woman. _I wish they all didn't have their backs to me. I felt a very high sense of foreboding. All my red flags were blaring in my head and my gut was protesting the entire scene.

"You can…" Caspian hesitated, "Guarantee…Miraz's death?"

"Aaaand moooore," the woman-bird thing bowed.

Caspian sheathed his sword.

"What are you doing, you idiot?" I whispered.

Nikabrik gave Caspian a nod, his eyes wide and his smile greedy.

"Let the circle be draaawn!" the bird thing cried.

_Oh my gosh. He's joining some kind of Satanist cult. No! It's worse than that! He's not thinking straight! He must be under some kind of spell! I need to get help!_

The Bird-Woman began to chant slowly. I could not tell what the words were, but the sound of them was haunting (and pretty enough) to make me want to throw up.

I scrambled backwards until I could stand. I jumped to my feet and ran with all speed down the dark hall until I burst into the main cavern.

"Peter? Ed? Su? Lucy? SOMEBODY!" I shouted. Everyone was outside—no one was responding. The cave was empty.

I skidded around a blacksmith setup and crashed up the stairs. "PETER! ED!" I shouted, bursting out of the cave entrance.

A few curious fauns, cheetahs, and other assorted creatures glanced up curiously.

"You look for the Kings and Queens, my lady?" asked some kind of rodent.

"Yes!" I said breathlessly.

He pointed to a cluster of people up the ramp and standing in the grassy space at the end of it.

"You guys!" I screamed, taking off again. I tripped over some kind of fault in the surrounding oxygen and, with a splat, landed before Peter and Edmund.

"What is WRONG, Pippin?" Edmund asked patiently.

"There's, people, he, Caspian, they," I took a huge breath and retried, jumping to my feet. "There's two creatures inside with Caspian by the stone table. I think he's under some kind of spell. Nikabrik, he's, I…I don't know. I just know it's bad, whatever it is. The bird-woman thing was chanting some kind of evil incantation just when I left!"

It must not have sounded serious enough. They only looked at me. "The willow people may look like birds," said Trumpkin kindly, "And they often sing old hymns."

"It's not like that," I cried, "They are doing some awful. They're drawing circles and the Werewolf was talking about killing Miraz and drinking blood and stuff. COME ON!" I turned and ran, and I was pleased to hear the two boys following me swiftly.

We passed through the cavern and went quickly into the room with the cave drawings.

"Quietly now," I whispered. "Just around the corner and they'll be able to see you. They're right in front of Aslan's portrait, under the arch thing…"

"Wait!" suddenly Caspian shouted. "This isn't what I wanted!"

"One drop of Adam's blood," said a silky smooth voice. It was refined and light. It made me feel calmer, but also uncomfortable. I didn't feel as much tension, but I certainly didn't like it. "And you'll free me."

"I'm going to be sick," Edmund suddenly whispered. "Peter, its HER."

"It's the Witch," Peter whispered hoarsely.

"The fool," Trumpkin muttered, "Nikabrik has called her back to life!"

"Like, as in Jadis, the WHITE witch?" I gasped in horror.

"…Then I am yours," said the Witch's voice, "My King!"

"No!" Caspian shouted again, and Peter peered around the corner. He jerked back, shaking. "They've slit his hand," he said solemnly. "The Werewolf has him. What shall we do?"

"I'll take Nikabrik," said Trumpkin wretchedly. "It breaks my heart. But if there is any killing to be done, he was my friend, and I shall see it is quick and painless."

"I'll take the bird woman," I whispered.

"Hag," Peter offered.

"Thanks," I said.

"I'll take the wolf," said Edmund. His face was a sickly hue and his hands shook.

"I'll help you with the Hag, Pippin," Peter said, "They are stronger than they look. You can distract her and I'll try and get Caspian…"

Suddenly, we realized it was very, very silent.

"Now to it," said Edmund, wiping a sudden burst of perspiration on his forehead.

Peter leapt around the corner, and the rest of us followed. "STOP!" he shouted, his voice full of authority. We raced down the steps and I rushed for the Bird-Like-Freak.

The Werewolf leapt on top of the Stone Table, growled, and lunged. Edmund held his sword out and the Wolf aimed for his face, jaws snapping.

The Hag came to meet Peter and I, brandishing long curved vulture claws. She used her wing-like cloak to slap me to the side. There suddenly came a long, chilling wolf howl from Edmund's opponent. She bounced into Peter's range, her beak clicking together as if observing a meal she's been looking forward to for ages.

I regained my footing and held my sword up, but then Peter got in front of me. I glanced behind me to see Edmund falling to the ground, holding his sword up, and the Wolf landing on top of him—the sword pierced his belly and shot through his back.

I turned back to Peter. He jumped right into the Hag's waiting arms and crashed, throwing her back against a rock. Probably frailer than he suspected, she crumpled to the ground.

"Finish her off," he instructed, running to Caspian's side.

I ran over and held my sword high.

"Go on," said the Hag. "Kill me!"

"Um, okay, if you insist," I replied uncertainly, expecting some kind of death speech, but not really wanting to hear it. I squeezed my eyes shut, plunged my sword into the folds of her cloak, and winced at her high-pitched scream—it sounded like the trill of a bird. Akin with her scream was another cry across the room—it was Lucy. _What is she doing here? _

With some difficulty I jerked my sword back out of Ye Olde Hag Birdy and ran to Peter again. Caspian was on the ground, shaking his head as if trying to rid a cobweb spell from his brain.

I looked up and for the first time, fully beheld Aslan's greatest enemy. She was white and entrapped in a tall block of ice hugged on all sides by the stone arch. She was blonde and I suppose you would call her beautiful of face.

Jadis, enchantress and ex-queen of something (the name slipped from my head thanks to the brainwash of book memory) floated inside the ice like an angel and smiled bemusedly at Peter.

"Come," said the lilting voice of Jadis. "Just one drop."

"Peter's not even bleeding!" I protested, surprised that even an Ice Witch famous for being dictator for a hundred years would be that stupid.

"You know you can't do this alone," said the Witch, smiling softly. Her peachy-pink hand was sticking out of blue frost, straining to touch someone.

I looked down and realized Peter was standing in the circle drawn on the ground. The inside of the scratch in the dirt was glowing blue.

"Hello? Peter?" I waved my hand in front of his docile, absent-minded, zoning-out face. "Wooohoooo?" _He was under the spell too!_

"Peter!" I reached over and poke him. His eyes were focused only on Jadis.

"He is mine now," said Jadis kindly, looking at me for the first time.

I started to laugh. "Or so says the twice defeated Ex-Queen of Narnia and lowly Witch of even lower places frozen inside a giant ice cube!"

A flash of someone moving caught my eye. I turned and saw Edmund sneaking around the edge of the room, trying to get behind the giant ice block. Trumpkin had two strong arms around Lucy. "Still now, Lu," he was saying. "Your brothers' got everything under control. Stay back."

Peter lowered his sword, dazed.

"That's right," Jadis urged, "I couldn't defeat you. So now, I shall help you."

"Again, says the woman who needs help," I said, my eyes darting to where Edmund disappeared behind the arch. "Peter, wake up, lazy oaf."

"Pippin," said Jadis in a sickly chocolate sweet voice, but full of commanding authority. Unwillingly, I turned and made eye contact.

"Coming here was a mistake," she said softly, "You cannot help Peter now."

"Oh, SHUT UP, you son of a bumblebee!" I cursed.

"Son of Adam," the Witch implored Peter. _What is taking Ed so long back there?_

"Come to me," she said, "All I need is a touch of your hand. You need not harm yourself for the blood. I will simply draw your hand into the ice a little. It is cold and sharp—it will do the work for you."

_Tempting_, I thought, _Sticking hands into freezers have always appealed to Peter._ _What an excellent idea, witch woman…_I also began to think of a series of names for her that were not so polite and would definitely up the rating on any movie or story. I couldn't say them out loud otherwise grownups might not let you read this book.

Suddenly, there was a crackle in the ice, and a shiny sword blade came through the back, went through her middle, and came out on our side of it. The point glinted in the shiny blue light cast from the ice. I knew Edmund had done his work.

The witch began to shake. Her eyes rolled back into her head, and she lifted her chin high. Her arms convulsed and splayed out on either side like a bird, and her hair spread out like a fan. _Or was it like that before?_

Suddenly, the ice shattered like glass and huge chunks flew out, and the image of the witch disappeared. Peter regained his sense and ducked out of the way. I jumped to the side. Caspian scrambled to his feet, staring in wonder at the now-melting bits of ice all over.

Edmund stood behind where Jadis had been, his sword still in mid-plunge-mode and held above his head. He slowly lowered it, the color had come back to his face, but his eyes were dark with anger. The image of Aslan glistened in the soft yellow light behind him.

Peter opened his mouth to say something.

"I know," Edmund interrupted, "You had it _sorted_." He whirled on heel and marched away. Peter and Caspian stared at the image, then turned and saw Susan. How long she had been standing there, I had no idea. She was glaring at the two elder boys equally. She shook her head disappointedly and fled the room dramatically.

"Is any one going to talk to Edmund?" I asked helplessly. "Do we know if he's okay? I mean, he just thrust a steel sword through solid ice, into a witch bod, and solid ice again. Shouldn't someone check on him?"

Caspian just shook his head. "It's all my fault," he whispered wretchedly, turning and likewise walking from the room. "I'm going outside for some fresh air," he barked over his shoulder. Peter sank down onto the ledge jutting from beneath the Stone Table.

"Oh, Monkey and Moogers!" I cursed with a Trumpkinism. "Fine! I'll go find little King Edmustard myself." I sheathed my sword and stalked out of the room, tripping over various pieces of ice that were slowly melting until the floor grew dark with its limpid water.

I finally found Ed after some searching time. He was leaning against one of the great rocks in the field just outside the How.

"Hey," I said, lowering myself next to him. "You were amazing in there."

Edmund grinned with the corner of his mouth and then let it slide away.

"So, um, I get the vibes from objective third parties who shall remain nameless that you need some closure."

Edmund shook his head. "I'm fine. I'm just getting over the shock of seeing _Her_ again."

"I never thought I'd see her…ever," I said.

"Lucky for you," said Edmund, "Lucky for you that you've never had to look into those awful eyes longer than you did today. By the way, thanks for keep her distracted."

"I doubt she could have done anything even if she noticed you, she was kind of stuck," I protested.

"But I think it may have helped her keep her poisonous words to herself long enough to keep Peter from falling under its spell too much," Edmund explained.

"Ah!" I exclaimed. "So I did help…a little."

"You killed the Hag," Edmund added for good measure.

"Who compares bird-women to Bigfoot?" I laughed.

"Bigfoot?"

"That's what I named the were-wolf," I giggled. "So…you really are okay?"

"Other than numerous flashbacks, throwing up into that bush, and frightful case of shivering, I'm perfectly capable."

"Oh," I said in a tiny voice. "Nathan did that after his argument with Dooku—er, I mean, Saruman."

"Who are they?"

"Nobody, just some nonsense," I covered my fan fiction blunder. The last thing I wanted was to explain the concept of World-Fall-Ins, the plot of Lord of the Rings, and sith of Star Wars. "I'm sorry you threw up. Would you care for some water? I can go get you some."

"No, it's alright."

"Okay…" I said slowly. "Um, I'm no Dr. Phil, but I got the feeling that you were chiding Peter in there for something."

Edmund looked away. "Peter just needed to know he didn't have everything under control."

"Nor sorted," I added. "But don't you think he already knew?"

"I couldn't help it," Ed whispered, as if letting me in on a nasty secret. "He said that to me once after I helped him in a fight. It's kind of haunted me ever since. I couldn't let the moment go since I was helping in a fight—again."

"Verbal revenge," I said testily.

"You have an strange interest about naming things," Edmund said abruptly.

"Yes. I do."

"Well," Edmund continued, "Peter has a strange interest in being the only one to do anything. I wanted him to stew over my words for awhile."

"I believe he is right now," I told him.

"Good," Edmund said loftily. "He needs to acknowledge my authority once in a while too. He's not the only King around here."

"He knows that," I said irritably.

"Although acknowledging me as a family member would be a nice start," Edmund mused.

"Oh," I replied. "I think he does. He just doesn't like it when you get involved."

"Whatever for?"

"If my deductions are correct," I explained, "Last time you all were here together and YOU were specifically involved—you almost died."

"I did die, or at least it felt like I did," Edmund unconsciously put a hand on his stomach.

"Well, there you go," I concluded, "Peter loves you so much that it has clouded his reason ever so slightly. He would rather you be safe and it throws him off balance when you outdo him—or join a battle that he thinks he owns."

"It makes sense, but how do I get him to stop?" Edmund asked.

"I think its something you grow out of," I said.

"That makes sense." There was a short silence, and I felt the urge to break it. As if in reply, my belly growled loudly.

"I'm getting hungry," I whined, "It must be nearing lunch time—or supper—or whatever it is you British people call it."

Edmund reached over and patted my head. "Thanks for coming to talk to me."

"I'm not a dog," I laughed at him.

"You're right," Edmund said apologetically, "You're a puppy."

I rolled my eyes and glanced absently into the trees. I saw something shiny near the ground. Suddenly curious, I stood and peered over the rock we had leaned against, squinting my eyes to try and see better.

"What is it?" Edmund asked.

"Just something sparkly," I said carelessly. "I'm going to go see where it is."

"Don't do that, we shouldn't venture too far from the How," Edmund cautioned.

"I've always been a good spy, actually," I said, creeping around the rock and heading for the tall grass.

"When did you receive that valuable experience?"

"I managed to crawl full circle around the dinner table once," I quipped.

"I'm in awe," Edmund said dryly.

"And it was full of aunts, uncles, parents, grandparents—and there was even a dog," I explained.

"Now I'm impressed," Edmund said in an even drier tone.

"Oh, shutup," I concluded, getting on my hands and knees and beginning to crawl through the grass.

"_Pippin_!" Edmund hissed after me. "Come back here!"

"Okay, I'm coming back," I grumbled from amidst the two foot green and yellow stalks of brittle grass. "Uh oh," I added.

"What happened?" Ed hissed.

"Something's got me," I said in horror. There was a frightful tug, as if a rubber band of air was slowly stretching until it felt like a visible pull. Something was pulling me onward. I tried to back up, but the invisible ish jerked me back.

Ed drew his sword. "Raise your hand so I can find you in this blasted jungle! Is it some kind of animal?"

"I'm only about two feet from where I started," I protested. "You should see my feet!"

"I don't see any feet." His voice was quieter.

"Why are you so quiet? Is there something frightfully scary standing in front of me that I don't know about?" I said uncomfortably.

"I can't hear you! Get out of there!" Ed's voice was far away.

"I'm trying!" I hollered back. "Something is pulling me!" grass was whiplashing my face until I knew something was pulling me with greater speed towards the edge of the forest. The green and yellows beside me became a blur. I didn't feel I was moving, in fact, if you'd asked, I'd say I was staying completely still but the ground was rushing past me. If it weren't for Ed saying my feet has disappeared, I'd of thought the grass was fleeing for the hills and leaving me behind.

"Is it an un-happening?" Edmund shouted, but his voice was still distant.

"Yes!" I hollered back.

I had no doubt of it now. Either my life was rewinding and I was going to be stuck in a situation I'd already been in, something was being erased as if it never happened at all, or I was going to be pulled into the future. There seemed to be no end of un-happening methods. It could be repetition or…condemnation to find out what the shiny thing was… whether I'd changed my mind or not.

"Un-happening!" I managed to shout over my shoulder.

"I'm getting Pete!" Edmund replied.

"Don't leave me," I wailed, feeling panicked.

Just then, I stopped. Or the grass stopped. _Whatever._

I put my hands in front of me and pushed aside a screen of grass to see the edge of the woods. Before me were rows and rows of shiny boots.

Those boots were covering shins, and the shins were legs, and the legs were holding up men in full Telmarine armor. There were thousands of them as far as the eye could see. The woods were full of them. They were all in ranks, standing stock still, with gloved hands clasped about a shield and spear each.

"Holy snickerdoodles," I breathed, scrambling to try and back away.

"HALT if you value your life!" said a harsh accent.

_Just because I'm running away doesn't mean I don't value my life! Actually, if I respond to 'halt', I would pretty much NOT be valuing my life—as is stopping for a Telmarine is rather life-threatening!_

Before I could get away, a blade was thrust forward and the cold steel pressed against my neck.

"In the Name of Miraz, King of Narnia, you are under arrest," said the voice, presumably attached to a pair of boots that were now in front of me… and blocking my escape.

_There goes my perfectly clean record, _I thought helplessly.

* * *

**OOOH, cliffhanger! I haven't gotten you guys with those for awhile! And this time you can't read ahead and see what happens because this isn't in the book, nor movie! MUAHAHAHAHA!**

**Please review! I looooove reviews…**


	13. POW, Prisoner Of War

**Dearest Reviewers,**

**Hello! Sorry for a bit of a slow update, but you know how it goes. Facebook and Flairs will steal your life. Don't let it. **

**So I have been thinking about a sequel to this for "**_**Voyage of the Dawn Treader**_**". **

**I was thinking of titles, perhaps something like: **

"_**Strange Things Happen in Yards with Croquet Mallets"**_

"_**Strange Things Happen in Campgrounds with Watercolors"**_

**Or…something like that.**

**Any ideas? Actually, why don't you all tell me your suggestions in a review.**

**Here are the rules, it MUST be: "Strange Things Happen In **_**place**_**with **_**thing**_**"**

**You could put any objects you want just as long as it follows that formula. **

**Thanks for your help!**

* * *

**More news:**

**I will be taking some pictures in the story here pretty soon. Those pictures, from Narnia, will be posted on my homepage. That way you can see some loverly scenery shots I took by the Beruna Bridge and stuff. **

**I am making a trailer for this fan fiction. It's rather low quality but we'll see if it works. I'll post it on You Tube when I'm done.**

**Pip**

* * *

**Chapter 13**

**POW, Prisoner Of War**

"What are the charges?" I asked the Telmarine who held the cool blade against my throat. I stood uncomfortably and glared as best I knew how.

"You exist," the Telmarine said coldly, twitching his head towards further into the forest. "Go along."

"We can't delay coming out in the open any longer," said one of the Captains. "General?"

"Go on with your march," said the Telmarine, "I'll take the prisoner to King Miraz."

"Oh, so he's King now, is he?" I asked, allowing myself to be poked and prodded under the cool shade of the trees. "Wow and you like… waited all morning. Good job being discreet."

The Telmarine didn't bother to reply. Lines and lines of Telmarines waited for a signal. One of them shifted in his post, and the sunlight glanced off of his shield. The light nearly blinded me. That's what I had seen shining from the ruins.

_Gah. Why do I have to be so stupid? I'm no better than a raccoon, or a crow. Stupid shiny things!_

Someone blew a trumpet, and the army began to move out. They broke out from the line of trees and faced the How, looking angry and itching for a fight. I saw another flash of light—someone wearing armor was standing near the top of the How near a small entrance. It was probably Edmund and Peter, wondering where I was.

"What are you gawking at, wretch!" barked the Telmarine. "Move along!"

I did as I was told, considering he had something considerably sharper than scissors and I did not.

The man guided me to a camp where dozens of people were smithying, taking care of horses, and running around looking crazy. Tents of ivory with silver embroideries were placed strategically around the woods so it didn't seem so crowded.

The biggest tent was an open one with tables set up in an E shape (missing the middle branch though) beneath its shade. Many important looking advisors, councilor's, and army personnel were seated around these tables. Sitting in the spot where the branch in the middle of my favorite letter E would have been was, undoubtedly, Miraz. He seemed rather short, with a dark pointy beard and cruel eyes.

"I've captured a spy, Your Highness," said the Telmarine as we approached. He bowed and tapped me, wanting me to do the same. I glanced at him like a stupid cow.

"Go on," he said.

"Okay, if you insist," I turned to walk away.

"Hold up, you!" the Telmarine grabbed my arm and jerked me back. "You can't get away so easily—bow before the King of Narnia!" he threw me into the tent and I landed on a dark-woven tapestry on my hands and knees. All the men chuckled unkindly.

"I bruise easily," I muttered to myself, standing again and brushing myself off.

"Who are you, girl?" asked Miraz, and what shocked me was that his voice was quite pleasant—not at all like during the Night Raid.

"Pickle," I said. I winced. _Oops, wrong name. And from the wrong fan fiction, too. _

"Pickle?" repeated Miraz.

"Pickle Mook," I sighed resignedly. One time, my friend Leyli (name changed to protect dignity) and I combined our own names (our real, live, human names, mind you) with the characters Pippin Took and Merry Brandybuck.

The result was Pickle Mook and Herry Sandybruck.

"What is your purpose here in my camp, Miss Mook?" asked Miraz.

"Ask him!" I pointed at the Telmarine guard accusingly. "He brought me here!"

"Were you not caught trying to sneak in?" questioned Miraz.

"My father was a raccoon," I lied, "I was attracted by the shiny armor and couldn't help but come and admire it. I had no such ideas about sneaking into campsites and singing London Bridges with you all around a bonfire."

They all blinked about three times.

"The girl has a crooked tongue," said Miraz peacefully, "Perhaps it will mend itself with time. Well, that is, if it even matters after she dies."

"Shall I dispose of her, my Lord?" asked the Guard.

"What do you mean, DISPOSE?" I shrieked, in real fear this time. "I'm not like a piece of garbage you can put in a Dumpster. Well, OK, maybe I am, and maybe you could, but that's besides the point."

"Do not fret, Miss Mook," said Miraz, standing. He fingertips rested lightly on a battle plan drawn before him. I found myself distracted by it and hoped to memorize it—despite the fact I cannot read upside down Telmarinian.

"I will not kill you yet," Miraz continued, "You will be of some use to us yet."

I did not like the idea of being 'use' for anybody.

"I can't cook," I confessed.

"Culinary art is not necessary for a bargaining chip to master," Miraz said coolly. His dark eyes stared in mine for a moment, as if assessing if I was good enough for gambling or not. "Take her somewhere within my sight and tie her up. I will meditate on some kind of course to take with this new—but not unfortunate—change in our plans."

The Telmarine grabbed my arm roughly and pulled me out of the tent. He led me about nine feet away, pushed me to the ground, and pulled a rope from a small bag slung over his shoulder. I jumped to my feet and pushed him over while he was balanced on his heels. He fell over with a cry of surprise and I began to run. I wasn't sure which way to go exactly so I began a little game of cat and mouse. I dodged around a few trees and dived behind a tent, circled around it, and began heading deeper into the forest.

Before I knew it, I heard steps just behind me. _Figures. It's stupid of me to think even for a moment that I could possibly outrun a trained soldier dude._

I drew my sword and whirled around, prepared to meet that blasted Telmarine. The soldier who pursued me already had his sword drawn and jumped towards me. I stepped aside and swung my blade hard. It caught him on the shoulder, and with a howl of rage, he whirled in a very fancy shmancy way and used his elbow in my side. His blade nicked me on my face. I felt stinging from my lower lip to my chin.

I was knocked to the ground, feeling like I'd been punched in the ribs. "Ow!" I hollered, shaking dirt from my hair. The soldier proceeded to kick my arm to try and make me let go of my sword. When I began picking myself up, the soldier stomped on my wrist with his foot. He was being careful with me, I could tell. It hurt enough for me to yell something like, "Starships and blue milk" and let go of my sword, but it wasn't hard enough to break any bones. The soldier grabbed my elbow and hauled me to my feet.

"Stop being so difficult, girl," said the Telmarine exasperatingly. "I don't like hurting little kids."

He sheathed his sword, picked mine up, and once again led me back to my little prison—in this case, a scraggly beech tree that looked no happier than I.

He shoved me against the tree again and made me sit down. He pulled my arms back around the tree and tied my wrists together. I knew this would become uncomfortable very, very fast.

"Hold still," said the Telmarine, grabbing my chin. I tried to pull my head away. He drew a dagger from his belt and held the blade against my cheek. "Do you want me to give you another pretty little scar?" he asked, sneering.

"No," I said in a voice the size of Thumbalina.

"Then behave yourself!" the Telmarine replaced the dagger in its sheath and gave me a not-so-gentle smack upside the head. He turned and left quickly.

I let my eyes fill up with self-pity tears. _I'm such a baby. This is stupid. I can't even escape right. I've always wanted a scar like Indiana Jones, and now I've got it, and I'm not any happier. Why can't I do anything right?_

"Pow," I said to myself. "Pow. Bam. Whoosh. Smack. Dwab. Poof. Bash. Whap."

"Shutup," said a nearby soldier.

"Only idiots don't recognize Batman comic sound effects when they hear them," I said loftily. I wasn't in a mood to have the manners of Elizabeth Bennet.

The soldier sighed.

"POW!" I repeated.

"Pow WHAT?" the soldier cried exasperatingly, looking up from the dagger he was sharpening.

"Pee-Oh-Double-U," I explained, "POW. It means Prisoner of War."

The soldier turned and walked into a tent, disgusted.

Forever long after that I was alone, I don't know. I was bored, achy, and tired, and above all, afraid for my life. I tried to doze off and was unsuccessful. A fly decided that I was his new best friend. I named him Harry Potter and began having fruitless conversations with him in which he never replied. He just kept sitting on my shoe.

I must have dozed off for a moment or two like I wanted, for when I opened my eyes again it was past noon and a messenger was running towards me.

"Your Majesty!" he cried. "Three Narnians approach! They bring signs of parley! Come and see!"

"Parley?" I repeated. "Don't you mean parsnip?"

"Perhaps we ought to kill the prisoner," suggested an older looking man.

"No," Miraz stepped out of his tent, looked at me for a moment, and then continued on with the messenger. "I still believe she may be useful for this parley."

"That would be the French," I mumbled to myself, thinking that I may very well be some kind of delirious nut. "The makers of raisins—humiliated grapes, really…" Miraz and the messenger and a general or two disappeared in the direction of the field where the Telmarine army waited and gave the How the evil eye.

Cold sweat ran down my back. I had never really been quite so scared in my life. The Night Raid had the adrenaline and element of surprise, despite how bloody it was. This was different. I was trapped like a caged animal with no way out and feeling quite gloomy to top it off. Plus, I really needed to pee. To combine all these made a very miserable creature indeed. All I wanted was to curl up in a bed with chocolate milk and watch Titanic or the Village or a Knights Tale. And considering none of these things were going to happen in my near future, and something painful like decapitation most likely would, I couldn't stop the tears from jumping out of my eyes and treating my face like a water slide. I felt queasy and knew that if I'd been told to stand I would most likely collapse like a pancake instead. _I hate being a girl! Girls suck! We have over-reactive tear-ducts and an unhealthy appetite for TV and caffeinated sugar!_

Miraz came back then, muttering in a foreign language to himself and stalking back to his tent, his angry strides reverberating through the ground. His lords followed like dogs, and soon they were settled in their tent again. I could kind of see their heads over bits of fern growing up around another tree between the tent and I.

Not two minutes later, the same messenger came running back. "The Barbarian Narnian Lord, the Giant, and the Horse-Man demand to see Your Majesty on conditions of bargaining."

"Bid them enter," answered Miraz. The messenger bowed and ran back towards the edge of camp. This running back and forth was beginning to bore me. I wished there was something clever going on that required a lot of details and Tolkien-like descriptions, but my problems seemed to be plain of face and uncomplicated of manners.

A head looked over the trees and into the clearing. I recognized a kind, if rather stupid, Giants face. I believe (if my memory serves me well) that his name was Wimbleweather. Out of the field, passing the Telmarine army with stiff faces and hands on their sword hilts came Edmund and the centaur General. (I never did learn his name, because no one formally introduced us and all the soldiers called him respectfully 'General'.) The Giant soon followed them, doing his best to duck under the branches unsuccessfully.

I opened my mouth, grinning so widely I thought my teeth may fall out, ready to call out to Edmund and tell him I was fine—when suddenly my mouth was full of cloth.

"MMF!" I shouted in annoyance. That darn Telmarine had thrown a hanky around my face and gagged me—to the tree! "EMDUFFDETH!" I screeched, jerking my head from side to side.

"Oh, shutup!" said the Telmarine, giving the hanky a tug and walking away.

"Mfffgthlpph," I growled, knowing I was upping the rating to an M for language but almost thankful that no one could tell what atrocities were pouring out.

Edmund saw me and practically melted into a puddle of good feelings on the ground with relief. Well, okay—he saw me, gave a start, and beamed at me. Then he shook his head at me when I continued to curse and screech all kinds of Orc insults. I immediately sobered and tried to communicate with my eyes, which weren't really working too much. And what I wanted to say I don't really know either.

I noted that he was dressed in full armor—what were they planning now? I began to get the distinct feeling that they actually were NOT in Miraz's camp on account of me but for something bigger and cooler.

Edmund went right into Miraz's tent. I felt slightly inclined to disappointment when he didn't come over to see me. Oh well. They have Kingly stuff to discuss. The General stood by the tent entrance, looking stern and scarier than normal.

The Giant came tromping over to me, and with a thump that shook the ground and caused several people to fall over nearly, sat next to me.

"Hey, little Missy," he said thunderously.

I winced with the loud volume right in my ear. It was like having a stereo turned all the way up and plastering your face up against the speaker.

"Hmphull," I said.

"Really?" the giant said, quieter this time.

"Goofdph!" I stated.

"You don't say," said the giant, looking over towards Miraz.

"Yoof dntch veven new whafem tuckinbutt!" I cried indignantly.

Translation: You don't even know what I am talking about!

I sighed with resignation and tried to overhear what Edmund was saying to the King. I didn't have too…Edmund soon came out and walked over to the Giant and I.

"They say they aren't quite ready to receive me yet," Edmund rolled his eyes and knelt in front of me, looking concerned. "Have they hurt you?"

"Waaah," I replied. "Mwuddent gosho fahashta sahtht!"

"She says," said the Giant, "Well, I wouldn't go so far as to say that."

I blinked at the Giant. He is amazing. So far, the only other person I had found that could tell what I was saying (most of the time with a mouth full of toothpaste) was my sister. And the Giant had translated me completely! For all of his clumsy stupidity as far as battles went, he was cleverer than he looked.

I nodded fervently in agreement.

"Here," Edmund said, taking a handkerchief from his belt and wiping blood from my new Indiana Jones cut on my chin. I have to admit I was very excited to see what it looked like when it healed.

"We've decided," Edmund leaned close and lowered his voice. "To challenge Miraz to single combat. Peter will fight him. But if he'll only let me in there, I'll talk to him."

"Nnnnn," I asked sadly, "Whahbutmmm?"

"She says 'And what about me?'" repeated the Giant. I tried to smile at him gratefully.

Edmund didn't answer for awhile. It was too long of a pause, in my opinion.

"Ed!" I repeated, fully scared now.

"I don't know," Edmund said gloomily. "I am going to try and convince them to let you go with us. I brought money, but I don't know if it will be enough. I have an idea or two that I am going to try."

"Thuhx…" I whimpered. "Srah mumsomch trleb…"

"Thanks," said the Giant, "I'm sorry I'm so much trouble."

Edmund reached over and squeezed my shoulder reassuringly. "Its okay. We all are. You're just more noticeable than the rest."

"Your Majesty!" called the General. "They are asking for you now."

Edmund nodded to me, slapped me heartily on the knee, and returned to Miraz's tent.

I sighed, feeling depressed. This was not turning out how it was supposed to be. If I could remember the book—or if there had been any book at all—I concluded we were way off track and that I'd probably messed up the entire story line. I was sure something went awfully wrong and I had jeopardized everything.

I began to hum Paint it Black by the Rolling Stones and concentrated on wiggling my chin from side to side and ridding myself of that infernal hanky. Nothing worked.

Suddenly, Edmund's clear formal voice came out of the tent. "I, Peter, by the Gift of Aslan, by election and by conquest, High King of Narnia, Lord of Cair Paravel, and Emperor of the Lone Islands. In order to prevent the abominable effusion of blood, to hearby challenge the usurper Miraz to single combat in the field of battle. The fight shall be to the death. The reward shall be total surrender."

"Tell me, Prince Edmund," said Miraz coldly.

"King," corrected Edmund as if commenting on the time of day or the weather.

"Pardon me?" asked Miraz.

"It's King Edmund actually," repeated Ed, "Just 'King' though. Peter's the High King. I know," he added sympathetically. "It's confusing."

"Why risk such a proposal," said Miraz, "When our armies could wipe you out by night?"

"Haven't you already underestimated our numbers?" Edmund asked casually. "I mean, only a week ago, Narnians…were extinct."

"And so you will be again," Miraz replied.

"Well, then, you should have little to fear!" Edmund concluded.

"Ha!" Miraz guffawed. "This is not a question of bravery!"

"So you're bravely refusing to fight a swordsman half your age?" Edmund asked innocently, yet his tone was taunting.

"I didn't say I refused," said Miraz after an awkward pause.

"You'll have our support, whatever your decision," declared a Lord at the table (I assumed he was sitting. He could have been hanging from the rafter of the tent for all I knew.)

"Sire," said another, "Our military advantage alone provides the perfect excuse to avoid..."

Suddenly, there was the sound of someone drawing their sword. Miraz stood and I could see his head over the bramble.

"I am not avoiding anything!" he growled.

"I was merely pointing out you would be well in your rights to refuse," said the second Lord.

"His Majesty would never refuse!" added a third voice. "He rarely shirks the chance to show the people the courage of their new King."

There was another silence. I craned my neck but the gag held me too far back.

"You!" said Miraz. "You should hope your brothers' sword is sharper than his pen!"

"Believe me," Edmund said sadly, "It is. Now, about your prisoner…"

"I am not partial to letting her go at this time," Miraz said darkly.

"I've brought forty gold pieces to buy her from you."

"I will not lower myself to bribery."

"I can take her back with me by force!"

"That will surely start a battle without regards to a single combat challenge," Miraz's voice sounded uncannily happy. "I intent to keep her—until this combat is over. That will, hopefully, assure no treachery from the Narnians. The minute I smell something is afoot, I shall give the signal and have her head sent to you on a platter."

There was an intense silence. The Giant used a single finger to pat me reassuringly on the head.

"Well, you cannot make the request of keeping a young lady that is not yours by right without expecting requests of our own."

"I am listening," Miraz said slowly.

"Do not lay a hand on her," Edmund said with some controlled anger. "And bring her with you to the combat on the stone ruins in the middle of the field. I want her in our sight at all times—do you UNDERSTAND?"

Miraz was not accustom to being spoken to like a child. "I will comply with your wishes," he said as if telling someone Santa existed when he wanted nothing more than a beer or some other strong drink.

"Then we will see you in fifteen minutes," Edmund said, sounding as if he was speaking through clenched teeth. "On the ruins."

"On the ruins," repeated Miraz. "And I would appreciate if you wouldn't speak to my prisoner until she is—possibly—released to you. I have several hidden bowmen posted around her. I would hate for one of them to mistake you for a rescue attempt and shoot her before I can stop them." His voice was smiling and sniveling with evilness now.

Edmund came out of the tent and looked to the General. The General nodded solemnly with approval. Edmund then met my gaze.

I pleaded with my eyes to come back and talk before he left. He only shook his head, gave me a sad smile, and left without another glance over his shoulder. The Giant heaved his tall body from the ground and followed them out of the forest.

I was crying again but Miraz interrupted my therapeutic blubbering with an announcement.

"PREPARE FOR SINGLE COMBAT!" he barked. "WE'RE GOING TO THE RUINS!" with that, my cranky guard untied me from the tree and pulled me to my feet, and many guards began to head for the field.

I looked over my shoulder at Miraz, who was holding still for people to put shiny gold armor on him. He was smiling wickedly at me. For some odd reason, I smiled back but went cross-eyed while I was at it. When my vision refocused, he was frowning with irritation. For a moment, I felt like I succeeded in life.

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**Well well well! Time to review me homies! **


	14. Duel of the Fates

**Dear Reviewers, **

**Wow! So many reviews! Thank-you tons of tons!**

**Here's my news:**

**I really like the idea of restrooms and music, but I've never had access to a public-pay toilet so we'll have to see. Perhaps along the lines of **_**Strange Things Happen in Outhouses with Ipods**_** or something? I have an excellent plot bunny involving an outhouse…and an ipod…**

**I know, I know, I am really tempted to make this a Mary Sue but I just can't do it! I may beat myself up for life and it will change the whole tone of the story. **

**In order to satisfy readers begging for a little romance, perhaps in the sequel I can put in a little 'crush' but a decision to just 'remain friends'? Would my avid anti-Sue fans be horrified? I want everyone's opinion on this one. It's slightly difficult. I won't do it if people threaten to not read this anymore. **

**Anyway, thank-you for the quantity—and quality—of your supportive reviews. Looking forward to that chapter, Sky Pirate! **

**Much Love,**

**Pippin **

* * *

**Important Notice:**

**If any of you have not seen "Harry Potter Puppet Pals & the Mysterious Ticking Noise" on YouTube then look it up before you read this. You'll recognize it by the puppets with a red curtain and blue backdrop. (there will be quirky music and insane laughter)**

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**Chapter 14,**

**Duel of the Fates**

The light blinded me when I was led out of the dim woods. The sun was shining brilliantly behind a gray screen of clouds. The clouds were bunching up thicker and then fading away entirely, and then were back again. The ground was moist from the rainfall that morning, and mist rose from the places where the sun glared its hottest.

I looked at the Telmarine who stopped me and was busy retying my hands behind my back, taking extra care to make sure the ropes about my wrists were taut and uncomfortable.

"Mmmnnn?" I whined like a puppy.

The Telmarine rolled his eyes and pulled the gag onto my chin. "Be quick now!"

"What is that mysterious ticking noise?" I asked him.

The Telmarine looked from right to left. "I do not hear anything."

"Snape, Snape, Severus Snape," I began to sing.

"Pardon?" said the Telmarine.

"DUMBLEDORE!" I erupted.

"That's it! No more nonsense for you!" the Telmarine slid the gag back up and stuffed it in my mouth. "I ought to have know you were only being foolish!"

"Ron, Ron, Ron Wushluh!" I managed to hum.

The Telmarine gave my hands an impolite jerk and shoved me all the way to the ruins, where I sat on a ledge facing the small, flagstone courtyard. Grass grew up in between the cracks and the sun glares on unmercifully ahead. A throne was placed between two standing stones for Miraz. I looked on the huge crowd of Narnians gathered by the How entrance with jealously, wishing I was among them instead of with these bloody pirates. Miraz came tromping up and settled in his throne, looking grim.

Suddenly all the Narnians exploded into cheers, hoots, howls, screams, growls, and every kind of applause you can imagine. The Telmarines, likewise, erupted into manly yells that couldn't quite amount to the same volume.

Edmund and Peter came out the How, completely decked out in ceremonial looking armor. Neither of them smiled. Peter looked so stern and focused he appeared to have aged a decade. Edmund looked highly uncertain, but also appeared to be concentrating.

I began to cheer as loudly as I could, stomping my feet to make up for my inability to clap. They arrived on the edge of the ruins.

"If it should appear to be going poorly…" said Miraz quietly to someone who—I think—was named Sopespian. Miraz gave a knowing nod and looked at Sopespian's crossbow.

Sopespian looked down as his own weapon, then back at Miraz. "Understood, your Majesty."

"NOO!" I screeched. "Mahurdthut! Youc'nt dofutt! Trechray!"

Miraz looked down at me where I perched close enough to continually poke his feet if I so chose to. "You would be wise to hold your tongue," he said curtly. "Otherwise we may just cut it out."

I replied, "Youfununnubumblebah!"

"Regardless of how this turns out," Miraz said, smiling down at me. "I've grown rather fond of you. I have no intention of letting you back to them alive if I cannot keep you as Plan C for bargaining. In fact, I suspect that the Narnian King Edmund is fond of you too."

I looked over at my friends. Both Peter and Edmund were watching the exchange with concern. My eye-conversation with them did nothing.

"He seems like a noble boy," Miraz continued, "He may gladly turn himself over to us in exchange for your life."

I stood up quickly and kicked him in the shin. Miraz grunted with surprise and I let out a cry of exasperation. I did little than stub my toes on his armor. My special little guard shoved me back to the ground.

"Sit down, prisoner!" he barked, and both Peter and Ed tensed. Peter drew his sword from the sheath that Edmund held for him and took a step forward. All the Narnians cheered a second round.

Miraz chuckled and stood. "I hope you are not disappointed," he hissed to Glozelle and Sopespian, "If I survive!" he drew his sword and took a few steps forward as well.

All focus was on Peter and Miraz now. They skirted the edge of the courtyard, watching eachother in silence. _They're sizing eachother up, noting weak points in the armor, and will probably do some trash talking._

"There is still time to surrender," Miraz taunted. _Told ya._

"Well feel free," Peter said darkly, never breaking eye-contact.

"How many more must die for the throne?" Miraz asked, his voice silky and smooth like an over concerned grandfather.

"Just one," Peter pulled down his helmet cover and began to pick up speed during which he walked around the edge. He ran up a chunk of the ruins and leapt high, coming down on Miraz from above. The first blows were laid. They drew back from eachother like matching magnets and circled again. Peter attacked again and swung his sword from above. Miraz took this opportunity to bash his shield in Peter's face. Peter fell backwards but quickly regained his footing.

Then they were at it again. They seemed to be taking turns: Here, Peter, hit my shield. Okay, Miraz, I will hit your shield. Now you can hit mine. Thanks Peter, now you can hit mine again! Back and forth, back and forth, each person was raining a blow on the other but each time it was blocked by the others' shield.

Suddenly Miraz twisted and did something different—it looked as if he nearly slit Peter's throat. Peter threw his head back and whirled, neatly drawing his blade across Miraz's back. Miraz threw back _his_ head this time and howled in pain, running forward to get out of Peter's range. He turned to face him again, and there was a small pause in which they regarded eachother again. I had been holding my breath for so long that I finally let it out in this break.

Miraz lunged for Peter again, but Peter anticipated it and jumped off the ground, using his blade to slap away Miraz's own. He landed behind Miraz and Miraz whirled around again, frustrated. Peter was agile and was using it to his advantage.

Miraz made a move to behead Peter, but he ducked again. But when he came up from ducking, Miraz threw his shield forward and bashed him in the head a second time. Peter cried out as his helmet fell from his head and clattered to the ground. Miraz tried to behead him for the third time, and this time Peter drew back instead of ducking. His chain mail hood slipped down, leaving his gold-haired head unprotected.

Miraz was becoming predictable. For the fourth time, he swung his blade to decapitate Peter. Peter knelt quickly and threw his sword across Miraz's knees. He succeeded in slicing him in the side of his right leg. Miraz yelled in pain and put a hand to his knee. They backed away from eachother, Miraz looked desperately to Sopespian. Apparently he believed this duel of the fates was going badly.

In my opinion, it was going rather well.

Sopespian did nothing, but merely inclined his head as if to say, "Keep going. It's positively splendid."

Peter gave an intense shout of "Aaagh!" and Miraz lunged for him, sword at chest height. As Peter ran for him, at the last minute, Miraz changed angles and swung low, catching the blade across Peter's shins. Peter had to leap high to avoid Miraz's sword but the blow caught him anyhow. He somersaulted through the air and landed on his hands and knees. Luckily, Miraz was backing away and giving him time to right himself.

Peter jumped back to his feet. His face was pale and sweat dripped down his head. His eyes betrayed no emotion except a fiery will to win. Miraz was looking older by the minute.

They leapt to eachother again, each landing a blow on the others' shield. Then their blades collided with a shrill ring. Miraz suddenly kicked Peter's heel and knocked his legs from beneath him. Peter crashed to the ground on his back, his limbs splaying in all directions. His neck and head was completely unguarded.

Miraz was moving too quickly to think about taking advantage of it. Instead, he stomped on Peter's shield. Peter held it so tightly that it drove his wrist down with the shield. With a wrenching cry of pain, Peter's elbow popped into a contorted angle that no joints should ever do.

I could see Edmund's face going from concerned to horribly afraid. He was almost as pale as Peter.

With a shout betraying the undoubted pain in his arm, Peter threw his sword up but Miraz blocked the blow. Miraz swooped down to finish him off, but Peter rolled away and succeeded in blocking the blow. He kept rolling, each time he came up it was just in time for his sword to meet Miraz's with a clang. He kept rolling. Some of the Telmarines were beginning to shout "Coward!" Miraz was giving pursuit.

Just then, Peter changed direction and rolled right into Miraz's legs. Miraz tripped over Peter's body and fell headfirst onto the ground beside him. Peter took this opportunity to struggle to his feet, and this time, he had the advantage.

But he couldn't do it. With each breath, Peter's voice came out in a strangled whimper. Miraz scrambled off of the ground as well, holding his shield gingerly over his leg wound. Peter gazed out over Miraz's shoulder, surprise registering.

I followed his gaze and saw Caspian approaching on horseback, with Susan riding behind him. Her arms were wrapped around his waist and it looked like she had put on makeup—or maybe she just looked a little starry-eyed. They came out of the woods and thundered across the plain. Peter was gasping for breath now.

"Does his Highness need a respite?" Miraz slurred tauntingly.

"Five minutes?" Peter choked, almost unable to get the words out.

"THREE!" snapped Miraz, not quite willing Peter to have his way in anything.

They circled eachother, each one suspecting treachery. Peter grimaced and finally turned away, putting a hand to his arm and limping to his side of the lists. Miraz limped likewise over to the Lords and I.

I took this opportunity to scoot a little closer to Miraz's makeshift throne. There was a piece of the armrest that stuck out about face height. I leaned discreetly to the side, slipped the sharp piece over the hanky, and tried to stand up. The force of it pulled the hanky from my mouth and I could speak again. However, I kept my mouth shut so no one would hopefully notice. The gag was now wrapped around my chin, but it was too tight and I couldn't get it any lower. But I was thankful because my mouth was getting awfully sore.

Edmund ran over to help Peter walk back to his side. Caspian and Susan began talking to Peter in hushed tones, and Peter's face changed from horrified to grateful. Whatever kind of devilries they were planning, it was going well. I wondered if it had something to do with Lucy's undying idea that Aslan was coming soon. Perhaps that is why I didn't see her around? If she were here at all, she'd be standing right next to Edmund.

Miraz shouted something to Sopespian in his thick accent, and I couldn't tell what he said. Miraz was obviously quite cranky. He slumped down in his little throne, his breath rasping in pain.

I looked back to Peter and Edmund. Susan gave Peter a hug and drew back quickly, looking at his arm. Edmund gestured and said something, and Peter saluted the Narnian army, holding his sword high. He was gritting his teeth in a fake, worn smile. The Narnians' burst into contagious cheers.

I cheered too.

"How does he look to you?" asked Miraz to, who I assume, was Glozelle.

"Young," he replied shortly.

Sopespian was busily wrapping Miraz's knee wound. "But your Majesty is doing extremely well," he said with forced kindness, "For his _age." _He jerked the bandage too tight and Miraz growled at him.

Likewise, Edmund and Peter were talking to eachother in low tones, and suddenly Edmund jerked Peter's injured arm back to its proper place. Peter cried, "Oh!" but I could tell it immediately felt better than before.

I looked over at Miraz. "Wassup?" I couldn't help asking. "So how do you feel? May I sing at your funeral?"

Miraz glared down at me and backhanded me in the face with his full armored hand.

"AGH!" I screeched, jerking back. My eyes began to water just because of the impact. I threw my hands over my tender nose, which was already bleeding profusely. "Miraz," I screeched, "YOU SUCK!"

Edmund and Peter both looked over.

"Hey!" Edmund suddenly shouted. He took a step forward but Peter held him back.

"Ed, don't," he urged.

"He broke our bargain!" Edmund growled.

"General? Caspian? Somebody?" Peter said desperately, holding his brother back.

The Centaur came around the ruins towards our side of the lists.

"Your Highness," he said respectively to Miraz when he arrived, "You have broken your side of the bargain regarding the girl. We can break ours likewise. Why do we not take her completely out of the situation?"

"Fine, fine," Miraz said distractedly. "I don't care any more." He had his eyes on Peter, looking edgier than ever before. "Just take her out of here. She will be no use to us when I win."

The Centaur held out a large, brown hand. I took it and he helped me to my feet like a perfect gentleman. Keep a hold on my hand, he began leading me back to Peter and Edmund's side of the lists. I had to trot to keep up with his long horse strides. His hand gripped mine firmly.

When we reached Ed, he was offering Peter the helmet he'd retrieved. Peter refused it and began to move back into the courtyard.

"Good luck, Pete," I called to him. He gave me a short smile over his shoulder.

Edmund turned to me. "Your turn," he said, giving me a huge hug. It was like hugging an iron lamppost. His armor didn't do much for embraces.

"Now sit down," he said.

"I assure you, I am perfectly capable of…"

"Sit down," Edmund repeated.

"But Ed, I want to watch…"

"Sit down, you idiot!" Edmund shoved me to the stone bench. He went around behind and began working at the gag knot. He untied it in a second.

I watched Miraz also refuse his helmet from Sopespian. He didn't want to be outdone by the Narnian king.

"Here," Edmund said, pressing the hanky against my nose. "Lean your head back."

I did as I was told and tried to watch Peter and Miraz approach eachother at the same time, which was rather difficult. My nose was throbbing and I could feel the hanky slowly becoming soaked.

Peter launched for Miraz, showing he was a lot more energetic than he looked. Miraz stumbled under his sudden attack, and the two of them were soon entangled. I could not tell one blade from another. Miraz used the brunt of his shield against Peter's injured arm, and Peter gasped.

I gasped likewise. _Was this ever going to end?_

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**Sorry it's a bit of a cliffie, but I wanted to end the chapter before I left. I wanted a little something for you guys to read while I'm gone. I am leaving tomorrow for a camping trip and will be gone for a week. I will see you (er, uh, imagine you) when I get back!**

**Love, Pippin**

**PS: Happy 4****th**** of July!**


	15. The Worst Chapter Title In the World

**Dearest Readers,**

**Wow guys, sorry for the long wait! Whoo! You would not believe what I've been doing lately.**

**Shopping for dorm stuff**

**Writers block**

**More shopping for dorm stuff**

**More writers block**

**Packing boxes**

**Cleaning**

**And even more writers block **

**WAY more stops at Target, Freddy's, and the Dollar Tree…for stuff. Guess what kind of stuff? YOU GUESSED IT! DORM STUFF!**

**You guys, honestly, I can't imagine keeping up on my stories while in college. But I will do my best. I won't abandon them, I promise, because my little brother would kill me. He's my biggest fan. Again, sorry for the wait, but don't worry, Pippin is back and ready to do some damage.**

**God Bless you guys! **

**Pippin**

**PS: I move to the dorm in two weeks. TWO WEEKS. --****Bursts into song--**** "LET FREEDOM RIIIIIIIIIIING!!"**

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**Chapter 15, The Worst Chapter Title In the World**

"Edmund?" I asked over the roar of the crowd. "This doesn't work!"

"Oh, _shut up_, Pippin!"

"Right," I agreed wholeheartedly, "Who has first aid training? Me." I pulled the hanky away from my face and leaned slightly more forward to cry out a mix of screaming and cheering and succeeding only in sounding like a crazed bush baby from a jungle somewhere.

Miraz knocked Peter to the ground, and I leapt for my feet. Peter wasn't responded quickly enough, Miraz threw his sword down on top of him—then he crumpled to the ground. Peter had kicked him in the leg. They both tried to get to their feet before the other—suddenly they were on their feet again, and Peter's hand was entangled in the hilt of Miraz's sword.

"GAW, Peter!" I screamed, on my feet beside Edmund.

"Go to it!" Edmund screamed, sweat pouring down his face. He reached over and grabbed my hand. Then he began squeezing it, hard.

"Ow," I said. "Ed. Edmund. Eddie. Edward. Edude. Email. Eduardo. E. GOOLASH!"

Peter wrenched his hand away, and Miraz's sword came with him. _He'd disarmed him! We're gonna win! I don't think I will ever enjoy the Olympics fencing again._

"YAY!" I began jumping up and down like a dorkaloptagus.

Peter suddenly went from good Kingy-poo to Savage Ruler. He began raining blow after blow on top of Miraz in lightening speed succession. Miraz was backing up, panicking, and could only use his shield to block them.

Peter lunged for a fatal stab in the gut. It only just missed Miraz and went between his ribs and his arm. Miraz pulled his arm in close and punched Peter in the elbow. Peter let go of his sword and it clattered to the stones. He pulled back, and Miraz backhanded him in the chin. Now there was an advantage on Miraz's side—Miraz had a shield, Peter had nothing.

Miraz thrust the shield in Peter's face, and then went in for a second, when Peter grabbed its edges. Then they wrestled over the shield like a steering wheel. (Right, idiot, right! Don't tell me how to drive! You asked me for directions! Now I ask you to stop backseat driving! LEFT! RIGHT! No, left! You said RIGHT!)

I snapped out of my reverie. Edmund was squeezing my hand so hard I felt two knuckles pop, and what I could see of my fingertips were turning the color of Harold and his purple crayon. And I could see why he was committing such violence—Peter twisted the shield away—up—and over his head, causing it to draw Miraz's arms up over his own noggin and on his back, the shield likewise.

Suddenly Miraz elbowed Peter in the nose, whirled, grabbed the back of his neck, and threw him down to the ground. Peter fell forward against one of the boulders, crashing into it in a heap. Miraz picked up one of the swords from the ground and, as Peter rolled out of the way, slammed it where he had been. He swung again, and Peter crossed his arms over to protect his face. The sword hit his arm guards, and Peter drew his arms back quickly, which knocked the sword away. He then jumped to his feet and punched Miraz in his injured leg—very hard.

Miraz stumbled back, and Peter lunged for him, but realized there was no point. Miraz was down—for real this time. He dropped to his knees and whispered haggardly, "Respite. Respite." Peter pulled back.

"Now is no time for chivalry, Peter!" Edmund called.

Peter tensed, relaxed, then retensed his fist. I could tell he wanted to hit him really, really badly.

"Pete?" I called. Peter looked at me. "I think he's done? Maybe?"

"Maybe," Peter gritted his teeth and creeped in a wide circle around Miraz, coming towards us finally. I let out a huge sigh of relief, Oh, thank God, it was over.

"Don't ever make me watch that again," I hissed to Edmund.

"How could I…" Edmund whispered back.

"Believe me," I said, "There is no way a fight like that will escape the all-seeing eye of You Tube."

Suddenly, Miraz started growling—making sort of a heaving sound—he lurched and grabbed a sword from the ground, jumped to his feet, and headed for Peter's turned back. Peter whirled just in time and the swing went over his head. He backed out of the arch of a second swing—and in a movement so fast I barely realized it had happened—grabbed the blade, wound it backwards, and plunged it into Miraz's belly.

My stomach began to feel queasy and made a gurgling sound, like a cartoon frog sproing. Very weird. "Shhh!" I slapped my stomach, and it didn't jiggle, for once.

Peter watched at Miraz fell to his knees for the umpteenth time. Peter drew the hilt back, as if preparing the final blow. But he paused and considered it—he wasn't going to go through with it.

"What's the matter, boy?" sneered Miraz. "Too cowardly to take a life?"

Peter lowered the sword. "It's not mine to take."

"Don't mind if I do," I whispered jokingly, stepping forward. Edmund jerked me back, and Caspian stepped forward to accept the sword from Peter.

"Caspian," I whispered, but I didn't finish. What could I say? By all means, kill the whelp? But not yet?

Peter walked to us, his feet dragging slowly. He put a hand on my shoulder, and then leaned a whole heck of a lot of weight on it. I wondered if my shoulder was soon going to lose all feeling, then get a tickly buzzing sensation like my hand. _Well—at least Peter needs help standing right now. Edmund has no excuse, and I will pummel him later for it. _

Caspian raised the sword and placed the point in the sensitive area between the breastbone and the jugular.

_That would really hurt. Like choking on a nacho chip. _

The crowd whispered silently amongst themselves.

"Perhaps I was wrong," said Miraz. The crowd silenced completely and strained to hear his words. "Maybe you do have the makings of a Telmarine king…after all."

Caspian's hands shook ever so slightly. Miraz bowed his head resignedly—well, can't say nothing for his courage—I'd be crying and begging for mercy by now.

Caspian shouted an anguished cry and thrust the blade into the ground, causing Miraz to flinch, but when he looked up his face registered a shock I didn't expect.

"Not one like you," Prince Caspian said tearfully.

"You have failed your highness," I whispered to Ed, "I am a Jedi! Like my father before me!"

"Hm?" Ed turned to me, distracted.

"If you don't let go of my hand," I said, fingers throbbing, "I will spork your eyes out and keep them in a jar for scientific experiments next to the arsenic and old lace. Capiche?"

"Keep you life," Caspian said. Edmund let go of my hand as if it resembled a tarantula and had a considerable amount of hair.

"But I am giving the Narnians back their Kingdom," Caspian concluded.

"I am sorry," Edmund said, taking my hand again and patting life back into it._ I think the palm of my hand needs CPR._

Caspian turned slowly and met our gazes, looking drained but as happy as a guppy. Edmund patted him on the back and opened his mouth, when suddenly there was a cry.

"TREACHARY!" screamed Glozelle, waving his arms over his head. "The Narnians have shot our Lord in the back! To arms, Telmar! To me! To arms!"

"This can't be good!" I said, pushing past the boys. Miraz lay like a cadaver on the pavement, a cherry-red Narnian arrow protruding from his vertebrae.

"Oh, sick," I said cheerfully, grabbing Peter's (not hurt) elbow. "Don't let me pass out."

Peter bent down so he could talk to me eye to eye. "We don't have the element of surprise, passage-ways, and darkness to aid us this time," he said seriously, "Please Pippin. Go inside and wait for us."

"WHAT?" I screamed, and suddenly, a volcanic shower of dirt burst from the ground where a boulder narrowly missed us. Everyone began to scream, bodies began to scramble and run, and flashes of armor roared on the horizon. Catapults were rewinding their ammunition.

"You're not going to go, are you?" Peter asked.

"No! I am not a scaredy-ca…cowpoke—COWARD!"

"I hate to do this," Peter said, and before I knew what he hated to do, he'd picked me up and threw me over his shoulder like a fireman. He ran a few paces, handed me off to someone—I was too busy kicking and screaming to see whom—and shouted, "She doesn't leave the How! Tie her up, knock her unconscious, I don't care."

"You wouldn't dare!" I screamed.

"Maybe I would, and maybe I wouldn't," said Shade, galloping into the dark dampness of the How.

"Shade," I cried, "Are you on HIS side?"

"We're all on the same side," said Shade, "Some just have a little more authority that others. A crown and a sword, for instance."

I fell off his back and rolled away, sitting up against a wall and crossed my arms over my chest. "Shade, if we get stuck in here somehow from those catapults, is there another way out?"

Shade stretched out on the floor and crisscrossed his paws delicately. "Now, why would thee ask such a ridiculous question of me?"

I shrugged.

Shade gestured to a tunnel I'd never been through before. "That way. The end is unopened—but it soon will be."

"Huh?" I asked, and almost in answer to my question, Caspian sped by, followed by at least half—or more—of our army.

"They'll open it," I predicted.

Shade nodded carelessly and licked his paw. "Mmhmm."

"Should I follow?" I asked.

Shade looked at me sternly and gave me the faintest hint of a growl.

"I take that as a no," I sighed, looking at my red hand. My fingernails looked terrible.

"Is thy hand hurt?" asked Shade, his eyes twinkling.

"No," I said crossly.

"Perhaps thee doesn't feel the pain, as the poets so plainly put it—love is pain."

"Love?" I repeated. "Um. Not that kind of love, sir."

Shade looked disappointed. "Oh. Thy presence will not stay as Peter's young bride, then?"

"What are you talking about?" I asked. "Edmund was the one holding my hand in a death grip the grim reaper would be jealous of."

"Oh," Shade clicked his tongue disappointedly. "He is much too young for thyself."

"I know," I said. "Too bad, isn't it? And he's so cute, too."

Shade made a scoffing sound. "Humph!"

I scooted across the space towards him and leaned against his warm, tangerine side. "If only you were human, Shade," I teased him.

Shade rolled his golden-green eyes. "You humans are love-crazy."

"You just used the word you," I quipped.

"Humans," Shade muttered. "Vulgar speech. No manners."

I patted his shoulder. "It's okay, we put up with a lot more around felines."

Shade flicked his tail and chuckled. "Thy is the winner, Pippin. I will make no more comments today."

"No, you can win today, Shade," I leaned my head in his ruffled white fur around his neck, "We don't know if we have tomorrow for a rematch."

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**I know it's been a long time, so is there anything I've left slackly? Anything pert and untoward? Cringe-inducing moments? Long leaves of absence shatter ones' confidence in pleasing the reviews. So do review and TALKY TO ME ME!**

**Forgive the spelling errors, the spellchecker is part Dodo. **


	16. And Here We Go

**Dear Readers,**

**Thank-you for all of your kind reviews! So, question, does anyone know when Voyage of the Dawn Treader will be released? Does anyone have any requests about what Pippin should (or should not) do when she pops back into the US? Is anyone else slightly concerned about Andrew Adamson not directing Voyage of the Dawn Treader? Is anyone else totally heartbroken about Pauline Baynes death this year? I know I am. **

**Keep reading and reviewing! Gracias!**

**Pippin**

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**Claim: (not a disclaimer. I am claiming today.) **

**I own Shade, green lollipops, and whatever else is in those ten boxes I packed yesterday for college. Actually, I don't even own the green lollipops. **

**PS: Sorry for all the Joker and A Knight's Tale references. I was in the mood. Poor Heath Ledger. :-(**

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**Specific shout-outs:**

**Nightsatrz: **Funny for you to mention that! I was going to have some Susan bonding time in this chapter!

**Sky-Pirate: **Hmmm.I wasn't very specific. I _am_ actually going to a University. We just call it college. :-)

**FleurRouge: **Oh dear, no, I won't marry Peter Pevensie. Goodness. What a fine mess that would be. We'd kill each other.

**Skywalker05: **Wow! What would I do without you? You're like a telescope. (It's a good thing). Now then, about Ed holding my hand! Yeah, it was pretty Mary-Suish of for me. My hands are really tiny and my friends think that if things begin to go wrong they can just hold it and squeeze it to death.

**Cooroo: **Welcome to the crew. :-) Thank-you so, so much from the bottom of my heart for giving my story a chance! It tickles my heartstrings. I sincerely hope you enjoy this chapter, and be sure to review and lemme know what you think!

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**CHAPTER 16, And Here We… Go**

After a few minutes of boredom, I stood up and brushed dirt from my pants. "I'm going to do a little exploring."

Shade jumped to his feet. "I can't let thee do it."

"Watch me!" I turned and began running with all speed in the direction of Caspian's men. Shade loped up beside me easily, his stride matching mine but without the amount of exertion.

"If thee insists on running away," Shade huffed, "Thee might want to run towards the armory first. Get on my back."

I complied, and we were off to the armory. I rummaged through until I found various pieces (that I wasn't wearing already) and grabbed a sword.

"The end should be open by now," Shade said, shifting his weight from side to side. "Come on, Mistress…"

"Wait, hold on," I said as I strapped on an arm guard. "I was thinking of getting a shirt from Forever 21 to match the chest-plate. Maybe a stop at Starbucks wouldn't be so bad."

"Starbucks?" Shade repeated. "Pippin, are thee MAD? What is a Starbucks?"

"I don't even remember anymore," I said, hopping onto his back again. "The word brings back good feelings. And a good taste!"

"You ARE mad," Shade took off running down the tunnel again. His gallop was heavy and the muscles in his shoulders bulged as he carried me downhill, made a wide u-turn, and proceeded down a second shaft that went even deeper.

"You said the word YOU again," I chortled.

Shade huffed—"Your fault!" just as we burst into a cavern full of rubble. There was evidence of the roof caving in, rocks and fallen Telmarines everywhere, and a few dead horses.

"What happened here?" I asked, horrified.

"It's all part of the plan," Shade assured me.

"It's aaaaall art of the plaaan," I imitated, though sounding remotely like the Joker instead. I wondered, if my own world even existed, if I'd get to ever see that movie…unless, of course, movies were something I made up. Maybe they never existed at all.

Shade knelt. "Get off here. We make our way up that hill and into battle. Yes?"

"Yes," I said, noting a poor little beast struggling out of the rubble. The horse was tangled in another's reigns, but coming out of it, it appeared to be uninjured. "But," I added, "I'll be taking Sir Ulrich with us."

"Whom might that be?" asked Shade.

I scrambled up over some rocks and held out my hand to the brown and white-splotched horse. "My baby," I crooned, patting his velvet nose and then heaving myself into the saddle. "Oof," I said, "You are tall!"

Shade crept up and gave me a boost with his nose. "This is good," he said, "It means I may be able to leave thee alone for more than three seconds. Shall we proceed?"

"Charge," I said half-heartedly, following Shade's tail up the grassy ramp (completely unreal looking, I might add. I think it was made out of wood and covered with grass!)

We burst into the sunlight and immediately were in pitched battle. Or—what was left of the battle. It seemed so small, and swindling, like we were back for leftovers. The remnants of the fight were here for us. _I'd dwindled too long, I shouldn't have grabbed armor. Wait, no, scratch that, bad idea. Armor good. Hard like shell. Shell protect. Me need it. Why me think like Tarzen. I not know. Concentrate on horse now._

Sir Ulrich was truly a good little warhorse. Whomever I directed him to, he butted his head against Telmarines and trampled them right over. It made me sick, but it was relieving to not kill any myself. I stayed close down to his neck, being small enough I looked like someone's old backpack. In fact, my friend Ben once told me he thought I was a backpack, so I hoped the trick would work. (If you want to hear that story, let me know. It's a good one). I was pulled into my own little sortie and out of Shade's sight within seconds.

Murphy's Law has a habit of going into effect with me. And that is: if something can go wrong, it WILL go wrong. Sir Ulrich was startled when the boulder of a catapult exploded right in front of us, sending a tsunami of dirt for our heads. Sir Ulrich bucked in surprise, throwing me from the saddle. For a moment I was airborne, and I felt like I was riding on the Ali Baba ride.

But as the ground rushed for me it didn't feel so much like a ride anymore. I let out an ear-piercing shriek and hit the ground with a clunk.

"Uh oh," I said, trying to get up. "I think I sprained—broke—no—SHATTERED something!" I lifted my head. The Telmarines were so close I could smell blood and sweat—they were reforming the line, and arranging their shields in a protective wall.

"I am going to die," I burst into tears. (Wow. Don't you love hormones.) "I'm gonna die. Well. At least Heaven is nice. Well, and Jesus too. Yeah. To die will be an awfully big adventure…"

And then everything went black. Who turned out me lights?

"Wait, I'm actually dying?" I cried allowed. "I was being melodramatic. I am a Shakespearian actor. I had the audience in the palm of my hand. I wasn't supposed to actually die! I'm not REALLY the Duke of York, honest! He dies! I don't!" I threw my hands out in front of me, and pulled the cape of a fallen soldier from over my face. The same scene, bright sunshine and a reforming line before me, was playing. Okay, so I wasn't dying after all. Capes, I guess, turn out the lights for a second.

I scrambled to my feet and felt warm, fuzzy pain in my ear. Blood there. What else? That darn, stupid, irrevocably flexible finger was dislocated again. I popped it back in quickly and moved out of the way of a huge woman centaur beating the crap out of a soldier holding a wicked looking mace.

The Narnian's were charging the new line, leaping bravely over the spear points and landing in the army. "I can't jump that high," I muttered, creatures whipping past me and into the new sortie. Shade thundered by me with a perplexed glance at me over his shoulder. He leapt without looking.

"Shade!" I shouted, wanting to close my eyes but I couldn't. Shade fell against a spear point, convulsed mid-air, and crumpled to the ground in a splurt of crimson.

I was still crying as I sheathed my sword, dropped to my stomach, and crawled forward. I joined someone who looked suspiciously like Reepicheep and crawled between Telmarine's legs.

"Feel the poke in yer feet, eh? Come on! Taste some more! What's the little beesting? EH? I'll give you BEESTING, you beasts! For Narnia!" –Stab— "For Aslan!" –Stab— "For my brothers! Oh, don't like a little pricky prick prick do you? How about THIS?" –stab!—

Yes, it was definitely Reepicheep.

Very few Telmarines' actually looked at the ground to see what bumped into them. The taller, fiercer creatures are what concerned them. I pulled a dagger from my stolen belt out and began stabbing the unprotected backs of people's legs. Telmarines hollered and leapt away from the poking source. Some reacted by falling down alongside of me, staring at me with horrified eyes, and then attempting to kill me. I skittered away from them, wishing I looked a little more like the woman from the Ring, crawling around and killing folks.

"Rar, I come from a TV, fear me," I muttered through my tears, choking on the words. I finally came to Shade's side where he'd landed, and stayed.

"Are you alive?" I whimpered, wiping my runny nose on the back of my hand. (Deal with it! I won't omit any gross details! Crying does it to yah! And someone forgot to give me a box of clean tissue!) I sneezed.

Shade opened one eye. "Nearly."

I sobbed with relief. "Well, don't go anywhere. When the battle is over they'll send rescue crews in, and…"

"In this country," Shade said, the bloody mess against his ribs flowing freely, "We die with honor before they come."

I had no kind of tourniquet, which I didn't really know how to do unless it was a limb wound, but I knew this much—he could go into shock PLUS bleed to death. The battle was moving on to the left, and we were hidden by an upheaval of broken dirt, so I hoped I could spare a few minutes.

I ran over to a dead elfish-tree creature, ripped a green cloak from it, and put it over Shade to try and keep him warm.

"Here!" said a gravelly voice, and I turned to see Trumpkin running for me. He had a red hood in his hands.

"Thanks," I said, stuffing the red hood against Shade's wound to try and stop the bleeding. I looked over at Shade, and he had squeezed his eyes shut.

"I'll come back!" I cried, and made a run for it before he opened those green eyes and changed my mind. I pulled out my sword and ran for the Telmarines, praying fervently.

When I reached them, I closed my eyes and thrust my sword into a random one. There was a cry, and I peeked. Edmund stood in front of the fallen soldier in mid-poise.

"Thanks!" he said hastily, turning and gutting down another one.

"Are you angry with me?" I yelled, holding my sword in front of me defensively. Everyone seemed to be ignoring me. _No one to fight with. Sheesh._

"No!" Edmund yelled. "I knew you'd show up." Suddenly his foe swung his sword and Edmund fell to the ground in a heap.

"Ah!" I screeched in surprise, running over. The Telmarine swung his sword again; I ducked, and ran full speed into his stomach and knocked him to the ground. His sword flew from his hand, and I jumped to my feet, holding my sword to his neck. My head felt a little throbby from hitting his armor.

"Not again," I moaned, "It's different fighting in the heat of the moment, but I don't want to kill you now!" A wicked grin spread slowly across the Telmarine's face.

With a _thwk _of air, an arrow shot past me and sunk into the other side of his neck. I glanced up, and Susan was running for me.

"Ed?" I asked, panicked.

"I'm okay, I'm okay!" Edmund stood up and shook kind of like a dog. "All better now. You?"

"Sue's coming?" I offered as my explanation. Edmund nodded and ran off to kill more. He grabbed another sword and began using the two like scissors against paper dolls. _Whoa._ I felt something like anger in my chest. Why are some people so good at that stuff? I was overtaken but a sudden bout of insane jealousy. Then it was quickly forgotten when Susan ran to my side and grabbed my elbow and pulled me away. "I understand you now, Pippin," she said, glancing over her shoulder to make sure we were safe.

"Like how?" I panted, following her. Before answering, she jerked an arrow from her quiver, pulled back the shaft, and ended a life some twenty yards away from us.

"Tender-heartedness," explained Susan, pulling out a second arrow and killing a Telmarine running for us, "Doesn't mean you're too weak to take a life."

"Where might this be coming from?" I asked, stabbing a Telmarine as he tripped and fell face-first in the ground. _AH! I just killed someone! Oh my God. Please forgive me. God, I feel so bad. Isn't this wrong? Thou shalt not murder? You even told the Israelites to go 'take care of' the bad guys, right?_

"What I said during the Night-Raid, it was stemming from anger," Susan said, shooting another arrow off, and I snapped back to the world. "I was angry with you for coming along. I was excited to return to Narnia, you know, like old times. Just me, my family, and the Narnian's. I felt like you spoiled it."

"Aha," I nodded knowingly. "Well I'm sorry. I didn't mean to come you know."

"Oh, given the choice, you would have chosen to come, anyhow."

"True!" I answered, and suddenly we were separated again. I swung my sword clumsily, there was a crash, and I screamed, "NAAAAAZGUL!" just because I could. Suddenly, running towards us, was a tree.

"Treebeard?" I asked confusedly. The tree ran past me, its roots running along the ground like seven-toed feet, its arm-branches waving crazily and knocking Telmarines over right and left. _My God! It's the boogying tree! My greatest nightmare as come true! Oh, there's another one! And another one! Wow, and there goes two more. It's a terrible tango tree troupe! _

In a flash, Susan was back again. "So I just wanted to apologize!"

There were trees everywhere. They were headed for us, past us, beyond us—we were overrun. I think they're on our side. That'd…that'd be good.

"It's good of you, but I should apologize for coming, I guess," I told her.

"I'd love it," Susan said, "But only because things were spoiled for ME. Edmund told me you're his dearest female friend. Peter looks on you like a little sister. Lucy doesn't count because she likes everyone."

"Even kidnapping tea-drinking fauns," I added.

"That's another thing." Susan frowned. "I know you haven't been entirely truthful with us. That mention of Mr. Beaver on the beach—don't think I haven't forgotten it!"

"Snap!" I said. "These trees are taking care of everyone! The Telmarines are leaving!"

"Lucy has succeeded, then," Susan grabbed my arm and led me to the remains of a catapult. We ducked beneath it and hid for a moment. "She was sent to find Aslan—I assume she awoke the trees, too!"

"So that's where she went!" I smiled. "I felt so out of the loop."

"Now stop avoiding the conversation," Susan said sternly. "You know it had to come sometime. I thought from the beginning we couldn't trust you. You obviously knew way more about us that you let on. With that little comment about Beaver and the slip about Mr. Tumnus just now. And on our way to the How—something about a motion picture? None of us told you about our adventure. Come on, isn't it time you've been honest with us, Pippin? I am smarter than I look, and I know when someone is crooked."

"Isn't it time you just trusted ME?" I asked sadly. "I can't tell you everything, Susan. I wish I could. If I told you your entire adventure was written in the book and they made a movie about it fifty-five years (roughly) in the future, would you believe me?"

"No, because we won't tell anyone—haven't told anyone!" Susan was baffled. "And how can YOU see the future?"

"Um, does the name C.S. Lewey—or was it Looloo?" I strained to remember. Random things from my world were so fuzzy, in pieces; falling apart…he's my favorite author, too! "C.S.LEWIS!" I erupted, knowing the power that be was granting me a little help there. "Sound familiar to you at all?"

"Maybe a little."

"Hmm," I said, "Well. There you go. I was just honest with you. I'm FROM the future—year 2008—and I read some books regarding YOUR history! Am I any less perplexing?"

"No. And I am having a hard time believing you. From the FUTURE? That's impossible—really!"

"Then there was no point." I shrugged. "Maybe I can't be completely honest with you because I find things perplexing too—too perplexing to explain. I wouldn't purposely be dishonest with any of you. The Pevensie family are my favorite people! Seriously! It only happens by accident. It's about time you accepted the impossible, right?"

"Well, then you'll certainly keep us on our toes," Susan gestured. "Come on. The Telmarines are headed for the River."

"Is there a plan B?" I asked.

"I guess when we get to the River, we'll find out, won't we?" I followed Susan out past the catapults tangled in some kind of fast-growing weed. We joined the throngs of Narnian's pursuing the Telmarines.

"Are we just leaving the wounded?" I cried, suddenly remembering Shade.

"I've sent in some reserves to take them back to the How," Susan panted.

"Okay!" we burst into the woods and trampled through the remains of Miraz's camp—it was so weird! He was actually dead! I thought that when he died, it'd be the end of all our problems. But he seemed very much alive—as were our problems were still hanging out. Actually, at this moment, our problems were running quickly ahead—out of the woods—and onto the bridge—where they stopped.

Everyone began running into each other. The Telmarines stopped, and so did we.

"What's the holdup?" I asked.

Suddenly, running towards me (sounding more like an Indiana Jones boulder headed for me that anything else) Whimbleweather stopped just behind me, reached down, picked me up, and put me on his shoulder.

"LOOK!" his voice thundered. I clapped my hands over my ears. "The Lion stops them!"

"What??" I strained to look. Far, far ahead, past the Telmarine army and past the bridge, I saw the shape of a little girl standing at its end. Beside her was a mass of mane so golden and radiant I couldn't make it out clearly.

"Holy Snickerdoodles," I breathed. "I gotta tell Susan. Thanks Wimble!" He lowered me gently to the ground beside Susan again.

"It's Aslan," I said, feeling warmth spread from my heart to my head just from saying his name. "He's standing at the end of the bridge! My gosh, I've seen him, and I can't believe it! He's like, like…sunlight!"

"Incredible, Lucy found him after all," Susan smiled softly,

"I accept your apology, Susan," I added quickly, and a little embarrassed.

"Thank-you." Susan shrugged. "It's about time."

I shrugged. I wondered now if we could ever really be friends, we were as different as two peas in a pod. But I knew we could get along now. Starting with apologies—and actually acknowledging each other's presences—was a good idea. I think, all along, we could have been friends if I had come clear in the beginning. The others didn't necessarily need to know about Clive Staples Lah-hoo, but Susan, you know, is just that kind of chick. She thrives on the cold, hard facts, faced with nothing but truth—no imagining, no guessing, none of that assuming innocent until proven guilty. That sort of thing._ Or at least, that's how I read her. _

I realized how little I knew of Susan. _Maybe I did that on purpose? Maybe I didn't want to be best friends with her because she…she…snap. What DOES she do in the future that I don't like? I don't remember!_

We began to move forward again. "I wonder if the Disney ride lines are worse than this?" I mused. "This is boring. Can we skip ahead?"

"Incredible," Susan smiled, "Lucy found him after all!"

"Not again," I hid my face and jumped up and down three times. "Stupid un-happenings! I am so annoyed with those! Cut it out, already!"

"Huh?" asked Susan.

"Oh Su!" I cried exasperatingly. "I accept your apology!"

"Well, thanks!" Susan exclaimed. "Glad to hear it!"

"Okay! Good!" I let myself settle down, trying to calm the adrenaline racing through my veins like burning hot coffee. I realized I had stopped panting like a dog. My head felt clearer—there was no headache, which was good—but I was still sweating waterfalls. Battles are so stressful.

With a roar, the crowd was moving again.

"We are giving chase," roared Wimbleweather, "The Telmarines move to hurt the Lion and the Little Girl."

"I need to get to the front," Susan shouted.

Wimbleweather began stomping. "Let us through!" he commanded, and the people parted like the Red Sea. _Fezzik, there are rocks ahead. If there are, you'll be dead._

I followed Susan towards the roar of the river and a shining light, golden and intimidating, lighting the path to the opposing shore.

_Aslan, I am so excited for all this to be over. I can't wait to meet you._

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**Comments? Questions? Reviews? The How-I-Was-Mistaken-For-A-Backpack story? Criticism? Oh, by the Lion's Mane…. FLAMES? (Shakes in apprehension)**


	17. Him

**Wow, sorry for the long wait. I am sure you'll forgive me when you discover I am completing my fourth week at college. I am working one job in two different locations, doing lots of homework, attending classes, and falling asleep during chapel. So updates will be much farther apart, but not abandoned! Thank-you for the patience and here's a chapter for your support! **

**God Bless,**

**Pippin-wreaking-havoc-at-college**

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**Disclaimer: I own nothing. But one day I will own #1 New York Times Bestseller title/position. Maybe. Hopefully.**

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**Chapter 17, Him**

Over the crowd, I saw nothing, so consented to follow dutifully behind Susan as the soldiers moved aside for their Queen. I fought the urge to wave like in a parade. When we came to the forefront of our soldiers, something utterly mad and insane was commencing.

"Um, oh, heaven's to Betsy," was all I could conjure out of my vocabulary to express my surprise with the busy little picture.

With a cry of "Charge!" the bridge was swarming with Telmarines, but only to the halfway mark. Others were wading the relatively shallow river. They hesitated at the center of the bridge because of the intimidating gold beast waiting for them at the end of it with gaping jaws. With a flash of his long knife fangs, a resonating roar permeated my eardrums with a shudder. The thunderous cry from Aslan's lungs ricocheted from the mountains and caused even the earth's very core to quiver. Then his red mouth clamped shut, and the echo of his growl dimmed and finally vaporized in the veins of the terrain.

Then, it was one of those decent, pregnant pauses. The moment when you know someone is going to lash out, there is about to be an explosion, or the underdog comes up with a verbal comeback. Very significant, of course.

Suddenly I noticed the river was rising, like it does after a rainy flood season, but it was visible, and there appeared to be nothing causing it. It was swirling restlessly about the bridge stakes, little wave gusts were spraying upwards into the air, and a great throbbing sound was coming downriver. I'd never heard what more than five thousands gallons of water sounded like, and now I did. It was like an earthquake, except you could smell and feel the coldness of it rushing for you.

The roar grew louder until a magnificent tsunami jumped around the bend in the shape of an angry old man. The liquidized, towering giant of a Moses rose in cascading torrents towards the bridge, foaming and gloating over it in a tyrannical pillar of falling water. Aquamarine colored shafts of river flowed through, out, and over its nearly clear body, a continual rain over his seaweed-ridden head of hair. Great, gaping eyes of the deepest wells stared into Glozelle's face.

Glozelle stared back, dripping in the foggy moisture, his mouth twitch betraying his terrorized silent scream. He pulled out his sword and waved it wildly, a heavy cry of fright finally escaping his soundless throat.

"He's going to eat Glozelle, isn't he?" I asked Susan.

"That's Sopespian," Susan snapped.

So I'd gotten it wrong throughout the whole story. Sorry folks. Glozelle just seems like an older, more crotchety name. Just like Sopespian's face.

With a convulsed arch of scattered rainbows and crystalline froth, the Moses-looking waterman dived forward in one big leap. His great hands tore apart the bridge like toothpicks, holding aloft the only section that Sopespian stood on—alone.

With a guttural cry wrenching from him, Sopespian disappeared into the wide mouth of the river king. The river king disintegrated the bridge into invisible shards, fell downwards in a green blur, and was suddenly engulfed in the river. Within seconds, the river seeped downward until it was its normal depth and flow.

"Incredible?" I tried, but it wasn't the right word to use. How would someone describe watching a man-shaped surfer's dream stand up and eat an antagonist?

Suddenly, the Telmarines were facing us, holding their blades high in the air—then making a show of letting them fall harmlessly to the ground. Their hands stayed aloft—they were surrendering! We'd succeeded!

Does this mean the adventure was over? Because the battle was won? Did I have to go home soon? Was my home even still there? What if I was supposed to stay there permanently? Maybe it wasn't over yet. The Night Raid was only the beginning of a harder fight, what if this was the beginning of a whole new layer to the war?

_Come._

I was surprised on the intrusion in my brain. And suddenly I knew it wasn't an intrusion—the presence had always been there, but the voice had not spoken out loud—in an audible tone—to me before.

I liked the voice. It was amber colored, dripping with tenderness and a greater love than I could imagine. It was strong, sacrificial, immortal, and completely unshakeable.

_Okay, here I come, your Royal…Awesomeness._

There was a chuckle, bright sunny yellow and strong enough to shake the four corners of the wind, but there was nothing to show for it except a daisy by my feet seemed to turn its face in the direction of the Lion.

I stumbled along after Susan. She seemed to be as in awe as I was, but she was used to the grandeur. I was a first-timer and completely overwhelmed by the hullaballoo. She walked along effortlessly, treading carefully into the river, with Narnian soldiers hurrying to her side to make sure she didn't falter. I stumbled and splashed behind her, sure to toss my sword and shield back to shore when I realized it was unnecessary baggage.

And finally, there HE was, bigger than I imagined. A warm, golden smell seemed to hang in the air around him, like a perfume, but not like artificial springtime. It was a peace as well that seemed to hover within his circle of presence. I could feel it enter my bones and take away all the little aches and pains I received battling for my life. Now every bump and bruise seemed to be worth it.

Before I knew it, Ed and Peter were beside us too. It was then I noticed Lucy—she looked radiant. I wondered if I looked radiant too. Caspian came slowly, the last of all, looking ashamed of himself. I couldn't fathom why.

Peter knelt, and the rest of us followed suit. I collapsed hard in the metal knees anyhow, not knowing how to be remotely graceful in a few extra pounds of mineral wall.

"Rise, Kings and Queen's of Narnia," said Aslan kindly, and I could tell by the voice he was the most understanding person I think I'd ever meet. He seemed so wise—just by speaking—it was like half god, half Jedi, (Qui Gon Jinn, to be exact) if you understand the analogy correctly.

Peter, Su, and Ed rose obediently.

"All of you," added Aslan, his deep voice sounding of irrevocable will and power.

"I am not a queen," I whispered in the tiniest, most miniscule whisper that a Borrower would be insanely jealous of.

"That is right, you are not," Aslan agreed with a twinkle of merriment in his firelight eyes and gentle tone. "You should continue kneeling."

I tried to refrain from giggling—but, I mean, seriously—when you got the sense of humor, you got it.

"I…" said Caspian, trying to speak as quietly as I but failing miserably. "I do not think I am ready." His accent trembled in his low tenor, betraying how insignificant he thought himself. It made me sad to hear such low-self-esteem in his tone.

"It's for that very reason I know you are," Aslan said, and I knew the doubt was over. Caspian knew his word was law—and his law was true—and so mahn, no worrehs!

Caspian stood, looking a little unholy and dirty compared the shining Lion.

Aslan said my name in my mind—my real name, mind you, not Pippin—and then added out loud, "You may stand now." When he said my name, I felt hyperactive on the adrenaline of happiness. I scrambled to my feet, eager to stand in his presence only because he gave me permission to. If he'd asked me to stand on my head and compose a song about sunburns, I'd do it.

Before I could say something to the effect of, "I've waited my whole life to meet you!" (like the little girl in the Disney Land commercials on the old Lion King VHS tape. Does anyone else remember that?) We heard the tell-tale music of bagpipes. Let me rephrase that—tiny bagpipes. Very tiny. It was all I could do to keep from giggling.

I felt stupid for laughing inwardly when I realized it was more of a funeral procession than anything else. Six mice appeared holding a stretcher—(a small one)—and on the stretcher lay Reepicheep in obvious pain. Lucy gave a small gasp darted forward, opening the diamond bottle of Cure Elixer. She knelt and kindly let a cranberry droplet fall from the top into Reepicheep's open mouth. With difficulty, he unwound from his contorted shape and stood up, suddenly energetic.

"Thank-you, your majesty!" He said gratefully. He turned and beheld Aslan's giant face towering over his own. "Oh, hail Aslan! It is a great honor to…" he tried to bow and toppled forward, and this was when I noticed his tail was missing. _Oh, the poor mouse! Those are so crucial to their balance! Maybe that's what's wrong with me! I need a tail!_

"I am completely out of countenence," Reepicheep cried apologetically. "I crave your indulgence for appearing in this unseemly fashion. Perhaps a drop more?" he looked to Lucy, his eyebrows raised high.

"I don't think it does that," Lucy looked at the bottle doubtfully. "It never has before." She peered closer at it to assure herself.

"You can have a go?" Reepicheep added innocently, as if offering himself as an experiment even if there was no sacrifice.

"It becomes you well, Small One," the corners of Aslan's mouth went up in the corners, giving the mouse a genuine Lion smile.

"All the same, great king, I regret that I must withdraw. For a tail is the honor and glory of a mouse. " Reepicheep lifted his chin proudly, and yet, his tone was humble and grateful.

"Perhaps you think too much of your honor, friend," Aslan prodded, enjoying the conversation.

"Well, it's not just the honor," admitted Reepicheep, "It's also great for balance, and climbing, and grabbing things."

A younger mouse near the back piped up. "May it please your high Majesty!" he cried in undying devotion, "We will not bear the shame of wearing an honor denied to our chief!" All at once, the rest of the mice held their own tails up and positioned their swords to slice them.

Aslan laughed warmly. "You have won me over, but not for your honor, but for the love of your people."

Reepicheep glanced behind him, twirled, and a long tail swiveled around with him. "Oh LOOK!" he exclaimed in delight. "Thank-you, thank-you, my liege! I will treasure it always!" A random picture of a treasure chest full of mice tails popped into my head. "From this day forward," continued Reepicheep, "It will serve as a great reminder of my huge humility."

Aslan laughed a second time, richer and more glorious than the last. "NOW!" he boomed suddenly, "Were is this Dear Little Friend you've told me about? The one who does not believe in Lions?"

Trumpkin pretended to look very busy collecting Telmarine weapons scattered along the coast. He blanched and looked down.

"Come, Son of Earth," Aslan said firmly.

Trumpkin turned with all the looks of a martyr and came to him, bowing submissively. Aslan opened his huge mouth and let out a bellowing roar. I had to slam my hands over my ears.

Trumpkin jumped and shuddered, his face contorting into a cringe.

"Do you see him NOW?" whispered Lucy, teasing him gently.

"He's bigger than I expected," I whispered to Susan out loud.

"He does that," she replied, distracted. "Come on. We have cleanup work to do." She took my arm and guided me away. With a fitful glance over my shoulder—I didn't want to leave the shining presence of Aslan—I caught eyes with the great Lion.

He winked.

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**Author's Note:**

**Okay, well, at might as well tell you. Here are some things I've done (or will be doing) at the good ol' university. **

**I tripped. My best friends roommate and my roommate came to know my clumsiness very quickly.**

**I made very few guy friends. Most of the fellows here are antisocial, arrogant superegos.**

**Realized I have a phobia of…blood.**

**I work one job in two different locations across campus. I work in an office. Whodda thunk it?**

**Failed a sociology test. It was a test over FOUR chapters, not one.**

**When correcting my essay, my critiquer said I was trying too hard to be myself. I'm like, whaaaaaat?**

**Prince Caspian needs to come out on DVD. Ahora. **

**Life is a highway and I'm gonna ride it all night long. **

**Fell asleep while I was writing a paper. I dreamed about a Sociology activity. When I woke up, I have KEPT WRITING, and had written what my teacher had said in my dream!**

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_**The Backpack story, like I promised.**_

_**Well, I was sitting in my Senior Shakespeare class minding my own business. On my right sat my friend Val, and next to her, her best friend Ben. Ben put his arm behind Val and rested it on the back of the pew. (yes, we had a pew in class. It's a theater thing). His hand was kind of sitting between Val's shoulder and my shoulder. Quite suddenly, he began to tap my shoulder with his finger. Then he started stroking it. Then he was tugging at the fuzzies on my sweatshirt. I found it very odd, but I chose not to say anything. I make it a point to ignore when people are being creepy. Well, he just kept on doing this, until Val stood to turn in a paper. So I began to glare at Ben now that I had a direct line of vision. Very slowly, almost slow motion, Ben turns his head and looks at me. "OH MY GOSH!" he screamed and flew sideways, nearly off the pew. "I am SO SORRY!" so then I asked him, "What the honk did you think you were touching?" And he screeched, "I thought you were a BACKPACK!" And I was like, "Do you normally pet backpacks?" to which he cried embarrassingly, "My fingers were bored!" So, forever after, he called me the backpack. It was kind of difficult to explain to people why he thought I was a backpack in the first place. He came up with three main reasons: 1), I was tiny, 2), I wasn't being too loud, 3), I was all curled up—like a backpack!**_

_**The end.**_


	18. Hammocks, Letters, and Death

**Dear Reviewers,**

**Hm, sorry it's been such a long wait between updates, but I could not find chapter 18. I'd written at least two pages—and then—I lost the CD I saved it to (so I could keep it safe while my computer is in the Mac Hospital). Plus, it was Finals week, which was total hell. So without further to do, here is a rewrite on a borrowed computer. Thank-you for your patience. ( I have a WHOPPIN' HUGE Author's Note at the end of the chapter to tell you all about college...)**

**God Bless,**

**Pippin**

**Disclaimer: I own Pippin (me), Shade the Tiger, a treasure box full of mice tails, and…Prince Caspian on DVD! WOOOOOO!**

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**Chapter 18, Hammocks, Letters, and Death**

Susan pulled me away from the scene, squeezed my shoulder lightly, and then disappeared. Crowds of Narnians were rushing to kiss Aslan's paws and plead temporary insanity for doubting him like Nikabrik and Trumpkin. Others were rushing back across the now shallow river to the battlefield for clean-up time. Some were still cleaning out bits of Telmarine weaponry and scrap wood from the bridge. All the Telmarines were sitting on the gravel beach, hands behind their hands and eyeing their giant guards nervously.

"What am I supposed to do?" I asked very loudly. Very few people glanced up, but said nothing. I glanced back at Aslan, but he was partially hidden by a crowd, including the Kings and Queens. I felt slightly off about Susan escorting me personally from the scene, and then returning to Him herself as if I had no business there. It reminded me of a story I remembered from my own world—something about men telling little children they weren't allowed to talk to Jesus and shooing them away. That's kind of what it felt like—being one of those little kids.

Someone tapped my arm, and I looked down at Lucy. "Hello there!" she said brightly.

"Hiya, pal!" I replied with fake cheer.

"We're to return to the How and get some sleep," Lucy said, smiling lightly. "King's orders."

"Which ONE? The boy, the cranky-pants, the Spaniard, or the Lion King?"

"Prince Caspian," Lucy said, not understanding any of MY options. "Asked us specifically to go back and sleep. He seemed particularly concerned about YOU."

"Why me? Healthy as a horse, I is."

"An over-exhausted horse," Lucy added. "You should take off the rest of your armor here. Someone will pick it up—and it's been through the river a few times already, hasn't it?"

"Some of it has, some of it I just—stole," I said lamely. "But you're right. I need it all off."

Lucy helped me get rid of the arm guards, leather vest, shin guards, mail shirt, and the funny looking skirt-like pants. Susan mentioned earlier it was easier to fight in a skirt, but I opted for the gauchos. When I was just wearing my normal jeans that had been hidden underneath it all, and Peter's old schoolboy shirt I'd been borrowing, I felt about three hundred pounds lighter and quite ready for a shower.

We began wading across the river. It was briskly chilled at first, but was actually quite pleasant up to the knee. About halfway through I planted my head underwater and scrubbed at my scalp, raking my hands through my hair. When I popped out, Lucy was laughing at me.

"Fine, laugh, your worshipfulness," I spluttered.

"Would you like a hair tie?" asked Lucy kindly.

"Yeah!" I gasped, remembering that—once upon a time—my hair had been pinned out of the way for the night raid, which is why so many people mistook me for a boy. "You have one?"

"Only just," Lucy tugged at one of the hair ties around the end of a braid trailing down the back of her head, and handed it to me. I wrapped my hair in loose ponytail and tied the leather string around it. It wouldn't stay for long, but it was relieving to have 30% clean hair and about 80% of it out of my way.

Lucy and I linked arms and tromped the rest of the way through the crystal Caribbean blue river, trying not to lose our balances.

"Do you remember the last time you slept?" Lucy asked me.

"Whoa," I said, "I don't, actually!" I thought about it for a moment. "I slept for two hours yesterday—just before the night raid. Was that seriously ONLY last night?"

"Yes," Lucy shook her head sullenly.

"It feels ages ago. This morning we got back, dealt with Jadis, I was stupid enough to get myself captured, Peter and Miraz dueled—and then the Telmarine's got a little battle happy." My head spun with everything that had happened. It felt like eternity since the morning we woke up to find Lucy running to find Aslan in the woods, only to run into Caspian and his army heading to the How…

"The sun is going down now—some of the soldiers have collapsed with hunger and exhaustion," Lucy and I came to the woods edge, and proceeded under its cool shade. Was it only fifteen minutes since we saw the River God destroy Sopespian and eat up the bridge?

"I can understand that, I haven't eaten since our little snack this morning," I mentioned, "Those poor dears haven't eaten since God knows when. How in the world do you cope with all this stuff?"

"Do you want to eat first?" Lucy asked, patting her own stomach, and ignoring my inquiry into her coping methods.

"Humph," I said, my stomach choosing to growl ferociously at that minute. "Maybe…but I feel bad eating if there are soldiers lying around on an accidental hunger strike. And what about the wounded ones? Susan said there were reserves getting them into—like—a makeshift hospital or something."

"Yes. And we've sent heralds and messengers to Miraz's capital to inform the residents it is rightfully Caspian's by conquest of the usurper and rightful lineage to the throne."

"What if they don't like the news?" I asked worriedly.

"Then they will let us know," she said briskly, "And we'll prepare for negotiation."

"Or aggressive negotiation," I snickered.

"What's that?" Lucy asked curiously.

"Oh," I said carelessly, "It's negotiations with a lightsaber."

"What's a lightsaber?" Lucy asked, confused.

"I meant…sword. Negotiations with a sword. Like, battle, basically," I shook my head. "Never mind, buddy."

We came out of the woods into dimming sunset. The gold of the sun lit the underbelly of the clouds, but it was quickly fading to a lavender gray. The mountains green pines were turning dark blue and red, and the grass was losing its yellow.

"Look at the sky," I mused out loud.

"Nothing compares to a Narnian sky," Lucy said proudly. "The colors just aren't as bright—or real—anywhere else."

"I wouldn't say that," I said a little sadly. "Where I live, the sunsets can get twice as vibrant as this. Of course, the pink could be because of the radiation exposure and the clouds could be from pollution, but no matter. It's still just as beautiful as this."

"I'd like to see where you live," Lucy said politely, picking up her skirt and beginning to walk again.

I stayed and watched the clouds gather into a dark column, spread, and finally extinguish the last ray of sunshine. "Nothing gold can stay," I said out loud, quoting the Outsiders—well, actually, Robert Frost, the poet. And when I turned and looked at rows of creatures, some dead and some moaning in pain, I almost believed it.

"I'd like to find Shade…" I said, my voice catching because it was sleepy.

"I'll meet you inside," Lucy gave me her sweetest smile and turned to walk away, stopping every so often to ask a working faun if someone was on the verge of death, and if her fire flower juice gift thing was needed.

I picked my way through the gray setting, squinting in the twilight for the shape of my sweet Tiger friend.

"Shade!" I called lightly, not wanting to disturb some of the fallen creatures covered with blankets and being looked after by female dwarves.

"_Shade…!_"

I finally spotted his blood-matted patterned fur, and came slowly to him, humming, "Oh Shade! Are you awake? Shade dear?" His eyes were shut, and he lay sprawled out as if dead, but I could have sworn his side was rising and falling with small breaths. I knelt next to him and listening for a heartbeat—there seemed to be one, though faint. I laid my head down again and listened to be sure.

"I'll stop listening to your heart in the minute," I said, sleepily. "In a minute."

"Word among us is that we have a victory," said a whispering voice. Shade had woken up, for a moment, any way.

"We've won. Aslan is back," I said, feeling warmth in my soul from the mere mention of his name. "All will be fine…in a few hours…and we'll get you taken care of."

"I'm fine," said Shade. "It is thee who needs some sleep. Look at thyself—thee is falling asleep where thy sits."

"Mmmhmm," I mumbled. "How are you feeling, Shade?"

"Well enough, little Pippin. Well enough."

His voice blurred into unidentifiable grayness, swirling and merging into a thick fog of sleep that muted the sounds of the wounded and the light of the evening.

"MISS PIPPIN!"

I startled awake, and it was pitch black all around me. The only sparkle of light I could make out was rows of torches by the How entrance. Other than that, it was blind darkness everywhere else. I felt dizzy with sleep.

"What?" I said groggily.

"Come away from there, Miss," a torch was lowered into my vision, and Trumpkin was standing in front of me. "It's—it's not sanitary, it is."

"Sanitary?" I asked, my voice sounding like a mix between Galadriel and Darth Vader—deep and throaty. "Ahem. I—fell asleep—oops. Sorry. Isn't it about time for someone to come look at this wound?"

"You're wounded?" Trumpkin asked, concerned.

"No—no, not me, Shade. The tiger," I crawled for a second and hoisted myself up, groaning and stretching. My back and neck popped and I sighed with contentment. _That felt goooood_. I turned back to Trumpkin, who had set the torch down and was bent over Shade, inspecting the wound.

"How's he doin'?" I asked hoarsely. "He hasn't been awake for awhile, but his heart is still going strong, and…"

"The beast is dead," Trumpkin said simply, stepping back. "He's been dead for an hour or so."

"But we talked like, two minutes ago," I protested, my stomach knotting.

"Impossible," Trumpkin said sadly, scooping up his torch again.

"He's not dead," I protested. "He's—in a coma! That's what!" I listened for a heart beat again—nothing. No breathing. No warmth. His eyes…his eyes were wide open, glaring and unblinking, with a lack of color behind them.

"He really is dead, isn't he?" I asked, my voice disbelieving.

"Yes. You should come back to the How. Queen Lucy sent me to look for you…" Trumpkin grasped my arm. "She said she left you about three hours ago. Perhaps you spoke with the Tiger then."

"Perhaps," I said, my mind blank. It didn't seem possible. Shade—dead? Really now? It was all a sick prank! A really sick prank! Any minute now, an un-happening would occur, and he'd cry, "Don't worry, Mistress Pippin! I'll hold up until help arrives! Thee can come visit me tomorrow."

I clamped my mouth shut, and didn't speak all the way back to the How. I'd made a dear friend in the regal, lovable Tiger. How can all that majesty and strength be wiped away in a single spear wound? I pictured a veterinary hospital from my own world—surely, if I recalled it correctly, they SAVED animals, right? Even talking animals? So we should have just taken him there, anywhere but here.

Narnia! Heh…a more savage place than I dreamed of. Once the danger was over and the battle was won, I thought it meant a happy ending. Not for Shade. He lay there and suffered for hours. There wasn't enough help to go around. Even with Aslan back, not all could be saved. And it had to be one of my friends that didn't make it. I was reduced to a grieving person with no one to talk to about it.

Of course, Shade must have had friends. When they cry and sob over his death, who am I to walk up to them and say, "Waaaah, my best animal friend is dead, waaaah…" They'd look at me like some sick reporter, the kinds that act sorry for what has happened, but don't really care because 'getting the story' is more important than compassion. That's how I'd look to them. "What are YOU crying about?" they'd say, "You've known him a few hours. There is NO WAY you are feeling what WE are feeling."

Oh, but I was feeling it, and how it ached. Deeply.

I surprised at the sight in the interior of the How, it was a preparation for—what? A gigantic party? Or a funeral?

Aslan seemed particularly subdued, lounged in a corner and speaking quietly with a pair of sobbing fauns. After speaking with them, he moved to another group, and spoke over a body on a stretcher. With grateful smiles, the bearers of the litter lowered it into a grave and blew kisses.

Several other groups were adding cracked catapult pieces to a bonfire, dancing with flutes and pipes all 'round it, singing and hopping. Lucy was among them, talking animatedly with a young faun. "You two look so much alike!" she was saying. "I am so pleased to tell you that your great-great-great-great-great-great grandfather was the kindest, sweetest, most wonderful faun I'd ever met. And you tell your grandmother that, too. Tumnus was a pearl of all fauns. And you make the name proud."

Edmund and Peter and Susan were huddled in a corner. Edmund and Susan were sleeping on either of Peter's shoulders, and he was looking over a long parchment. After a moment, he gestured Caspian to come over to him and pointed at something written on it. A Minotaur stood up and began announcing in a booming voice the proper manners for a crowning celebration and Telmarine custom so that no one would get offended and another war begun.

"Are you alright?" asked Trumpkin.

"Yeah. I am," I said robotically. "It feels different than I thought it would—losing someone I just met. I don't feel anything at all. It hurts inside. That's it, though."

Truth was, I felt really disorientated from sleep, and my vision was weird, like I was seeing everything like a BBC film. (You know what I mean, how a movie just looks *different* on a BBC tape versus Disney or something?)

Trumpkin gave me a peculiar look. "It feels different because that's not normal, it ain't. Trust me, missy. You should go to sleep, er, something. You're in shock, that's what. Ain't good, no it ain't…"

"Um, okay," I said, sitting down on a rock ledge. I didn't want anyone but my buddies from high school to hug at the moment, but they weren't there, so it was best just to not say anything. I looked around and realized Trumpkin had left me alone. I shrugged and leaned back, staring at the ceiling. The firelight flickered against the textured earth, wavering and blurring into indistinct shapes.

"Here," said Trumpkin's voice. "I've brought ya something to eat."

"I've lost my appetite," I opened my eyes and looked at him, "But thanks for the thought. It was very kind of you. Why don't you go get some sleep? You need it more than I do. I've already slept some. You've been working ceaselessly."

"I appreciate the offer," Trumpkin said slowly, "But I'm to see that you eat something. Lucy—er, Queen Lucy—has nodded off but she asked me to see to it." I looked at the bonfire, and Lucy was asleep against the wall nearest to it, and the faun she had been speaking to was discreetly putting a pillow behind her bed, and a second one was draping a blanket over her.

"Okay. Fine." I took the tin plate from him and took a large bite from a stale, crumbling biscuit. I coughed with its dryness and gulped some water from a wooden cup. It was hard to choke down the dehydrated bread, so I dipped it in the water and chewed it slowly. It made my mouth feel tired and my jaws sore.

"Better?" asked Trumpkin, sitting next to me.

I put the plate down. "Maybe. Thank-you." I curled up on the ledge and lay down, my legs hanging off, and pressed my face against the cool stone.

"No, no, not there," Trumpkin shook my arm. "There ARE decent places to sleep, you know—follow me." I stood quickly and tromped after him, my adrenaline burning like acid for some odd reason. I almost didn't feel tired, yet I felt like I could have been sleep walking. The air felt thick and the crowds surreal.

"Your majesties," said Trumpkin, stopping by Peter's feet. "The hammocks are all ready—Aslan insists that you get some rest. He'll handle all the burials and preparations personally."

"Only if he insists," Peter stood up, causing Edmund and Susan to fall towards each other. Their heads collided with a painful 'bonk'. "Ouch!" snapped Susan, jerking.

"Oomph!" Edmund rubbed his head. "What'd you do THAT for?"

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to," Peter held out his hands and helped them both to their feet. "Come on. They've got cots or hammocks or something."

"But, I fell asleep, I didn't mean to, I'm supposed to," stuttered Ed.

"Aslan insists you get some sleep," Trumpkin stated flatly, "There is plenty to be done, sure, but he can do it. He's Aslan."

Susan beamed at him for his change in attitude towards the great Lion, and Edmund stopped protesting.

Trumpkin turned to lead the way, and Peter and I almost ran into each other.

"Go ahead," I said stiffly.

"No, it's alright," Peter put his hand on my back and pressed me forward, and kept it there while we walked through a branch of the tunnel labyrinth, him urging me along the whole way. We came into a small cave, no bigger than your average living room. There were six rows of hammocks, and three hanging in each row.

"You can have the top, Su," Peter said kindly.

"Thanks," Susan kissed his cheek, then Edmund's, and hoisted herself up a wooden post with small stakes sticking out of the side. It was a makeshift ladder posted by each row to ensure entrance to the topmost ones. She clambered into a hammock and it swung lazily back and forth.

"Pippin?" asked Peter, moving his hand to my shoulder. "You want another top one?" I wondered why he was asking—then I realized it was because there were several other beings snoring softly, and there was only one left. It was like offering the top bunk to an annoying cousin. Now that's saying something.

"She's afraid of heights, Peter," Edmund told him, letting out a huge yawn.

"Yeah, afraid," I mumbled. "I'll just…right here. It looks. Yeah. _It'll work, it'll work. _Goodnight." I'd quoted Han Solo even in a stupor. I walked to the nearest one and sat it in, testing its strength, and slowly laid down inside. I'd never felt comfortable with hammocks—having flipped out of one once.

"I am going to go get Lucy, she needs something a little more comfortable—" Peter said, turning to leave.

"Let me take care of that, your Majesty," Trumpkin said, "I'm the one givin' the orders right now. And I say pick a blasted hammock and go to sleep."

Peter rolled his eyes and gave him a sleepy grin. "Have it your way." He settled into a second-highest one farther down the line. Edmund joined the one next to his, which coincidently was on the other side of me, just one level up. Soon, Trumpkin returned with Lucy, and pointed out a bunk, to which she dutifully climbed up into.

"Goodnight, DLF," she said sweetly. "Goodnight Ed, Peter, Su—Pippin." Trumpkin nodded and left, taking the light with him on the single torch that had illuminated the expanse.

"Goodnight, Su, Ed, Lu, Pip." Peter said, sounding smothered.

"Sleep well. Pippin, Peter, Lu, Susan…" Edmund let out a small snicker.

"Mmm…sleep tight…everyone…" Susan mumbled.

"Don't let the bed bugs bite," I said dully, staring at the hammock above me, swinging lazily back and forth and squeaking slightly. "Don't fall out of these things."

"I'll try…" Edmund snickered again.

I turned over onto my stomach and buried my face, trying to block a loud ringing in my ears. It sounded like the clang of swords…the tangy smell of blood dripping…the roar of a beast in pain. I don't remember falling asleep. But I know I did…eventually. The last picture in my head was the picture of Shade, sleeping soundly, and still waiting for help.

---

The next morning was brighter than I thought should be allowed in a cave, but I realized there was a hole in the roof some yards away letting in the intense sunlight, so it was all very well. I looked around and realized I was the only one still sleeping. I yawned and stretched, searched down the rows of hammocks till I found a makeshift wooden door into a—well, an indent in the dirt the size of a broom closet with a smaller hole in the ground to pee in.

"I love nature," I said mildly.

---

I found Susan after a time, and was surprised to see her looking—um—don't take this the wrong way—freaking amazing. Her hair was all done up, there was DEFINITELY makeup, the dress was quite revealing, and…

"Whoa, girl," I screeched, walking into the main cavern. She was sitting delicately on a ledge, reading a parchment. "Where's the wedding? Why the he..heck…are you dressed like, uh…"

Susan smiled meekly. "It's for the parade."

"You look gorgeous, I am going to go madly insane with jealously," I sniffed disdainfully. "You're going to have nearly every species asking for your phone—wait, what parade?"

"I'm afraid you don't have time to get ready," Susan said apologetically, "But we don't exactly have any dresses that fit you. The dress you borrowed from our treasure chamber disappeared—we think it was salvaged for bandages. Plus you slept for about thirteen hours."

"Thirteen hours?" I said blankly. "What time is it?"

"Almost noon. We're leaving for the capital. We're gathering together and we're traveling to the palace—oh, here, read this." Susan handed me the parchment excitedly.

I gave her a half-smile (slightly confused and unused to us getting along), and adjusted my blurry eyes to the swirly lettering.

---

_To Caspian the Tenth, by election and conquest, hopeful High King of Narnia, Lord over our late Protector Miraz, Emperor of the Unknown regions beyond the Cair Paravel ruinous, we send you greetings. I will make this brief, as my heart is grieving for the loss of Miraz, my husband and father of our only son. The people of Telmar bid you welcome. Please consider arriving in style and in a mood for celebration, for the populace moral is very low because of the deaths of many soldiers, and while many undeserving of such fate, those here recognize the mistake of serving under a tyrant instead of creating a rebellion (as the Narnian legends of old dared to attempt) and need to see their change of heart is not in vain and will be shown mercy. Please accept my sincerest apologies for the heavy losses of your people in these battles. If you leave your establishment by noon of tomorrow…_

("This arrived last night," Susan explained when I asked her.)

…_then you shall be accompanied for a conquerors parade through the main city by three o'clock. Then I humbly extend an invitation for a feast in the Great Hall. If the rumors are indeed true, the Kings and Queens of Old returned from the past, their courtiers, and your forefront worriers are welcome. Lord Drinian, Chief Navigator and Professor of Oceanic Studies, will host a ball in your honor shortly thereafter. Your crowning ceremony, by the Lion Aslan or by Priest, shall begin at five o'clock the next day, and by request of the Telmar people, you may retake the throne rightfully yours by blood at six o'clock, when the public announcement shall be made. If there are agreements or negotiation I have left untouched, you may send reply by Raven. Otherwise I shall await your return to your kingdom's capital._

_With all haste, and the deepest sorrow of my heart,_

_Your loving aunt,_

_The __Renounced__ Queen Prunaprismia._

_---_

"Poor thing," I said sadly, handing the parchment back to Susan. "She's lost her husband. Her poor son."

"But there is so much good in this," Susan said impatiently, "The people of Telmar want us! SHE wants us to come! There are so many things that could be going wrong now…"

"I don't suppose this could be some kind of horrible trap?" I asked, my voice dull. Something hazy was tugging at my mind, whispering, "Gooo back to sleeeep! Sleeeepy!"

"Um, no, we've had our scouts spying in the area since the bridge collapsed!" Susan let out a little chuckle. "We have the basis covered. We know how to do all this, you know, dear."

"Parade? A BALL?" I shook my head, changing back to my original qualm. "If it's anything like prom…or…"

Susan laughed. "Don't worry about it. You worry too much. You've had too much sleep, is all. You need to get your energy level up. There are only good times ahead."

That wasn't really what I meant, but I didn't bother to contradict her. She was floating on cloud nine, and it wasn't for me to cause rain. I gave her another worn smile, complimented the dress, (even though it was the most hideous, rosy fairy pink I'd ever seen. I HATE pink), and then went to dig up some breakfast.

There was no breakfast to be had because everyone was packing. "We're late!" fauns were squeaking, running around with parcels and crates. "We KNOW!" roared satyrs, stumbling over mice who were sweeping the floor with their long tails. The whole lot of them looked stressed, happy, and busy. The whole How was amass of scuffling, cheers, and snatches of song.

"Ey! Pippin! There you are!" Edmund nearly collided with me in the middle of the main cavern. Trumpkin was with him, looking not too pleased about holding a stack of pressed laundry for the Royals to change into for the parade. "You've been sleeping for AGES! Where in Heaven's name WERE you last night, anyways?"

"I fell asleep…outside," I said lamely, avoiding Trumpkin's gaze. That's one of the weird things about me—there are times I complain really loudly so that all attention is diverted to my suffering, and sometimes, I only want to be left alone. I don't want anyone to know my little personal tragedies. _Weird! What's going on with me? Normally I would be like, "Waah, hug me, Edsy boy, waaaah…"_

"Really?" Edmund said confusedly. "Trumpkin, WHY are you glaring at her like that?"

Trumpkin shook himself. "Oh, I, must have had some dust in my eye, your Majesty."

I gave Trumpkin a pleading look. Edmund rolled his eyes. "Fine, don't tell me," he said, miffed. "You'd think I couldn't tell if the DLF wasn't being entirely open, but I can. No matter though. It's time to be stuffed and dressed like a…"

"Fancy turkey," I said, without any emotion in my voice. "Named Allen."

Edmund laughed and tromped off, Trumpkin turning to follow. He gave me a scolding eye-brow raise over his shoulder, which I assumes means that he wants me to be a pathetic sponge for everyone elses' sympathies. _I really AM off my rocker. What happened to me being spastic and outspoken? Ought I not to have screeched my anger, frustration, guilt, and deep sadness for all to here? _

"A parade?" I repeated. "Well, I'll be fine. I can walk with Shade, and…" all at once, I caught the rest of the sentence, covered my mouth, and resolved to keep every ounce of salt water from falling from my eyes. Not now. The letter said to come in a cheerful mood. And cheerful I was going to be, no matter how fake it was. Surely I've cried enough on the trip—even though it was because I was killing other people—I just shouldn't…I couldn't…anymore.

"No dresses for me," I resolved, sitting on a boulder and watching activities, going to help someone carry a heavy burden every so often. "No dresses. No fancy-shmancy dancing. No horse to ride. No…tiger. No tiger. No poor, dear, wonderful tiger."

I let a single tear—just one, mind you—slide down my cheek and fall against the dusty ground, soon trampled under rushing feet in the hum of excited people.

* * *

**Alright! I think this may be one of my longest chapters to date! It's eleven pages long, you guys! Whoohoo!**

**And I know you all hate me, but, yeah. Shade is dead, and may he rest in peace.**

**Here are some little college stories to keep you entertained. Read at your own risk.**

**1. **

**We played fugitive. Amazing game. You're like, running around the city at night, and people are chasing you, and it's so scary!**

**2.**

**I was asked to a Roomies (where a guy asks you to be a date for HIS roommate, and his roommate does the same thing likewise for him). And my date was…terrible. The dude kept hitting on me, tried to kiss me…and he has a girlfriend back home! I was PO'd. **

**3.**

**I was in a short ten minute play called "Hope Chest". After our play was over and my friend and I were bowing, two sophomore guys I knew in the audience started singing to me really loudly. It was SO hard to keep a straight face! (they were singing my name mixed with the Numa Numa song. lol)**

**4.**

**I managed to pass math. You all know how I am with math. So I got a C, and I am so happy for that. ******

**5.**

**A LOT of my friends are leaving during break and NOT coming back next semester. Some of them didn't even say goodbye. ******

**6.**

**I became half a vegetarian. The only time I ate meat was when they served hamburgers in the cafeteria, which wasn't often. I've been living on pasta, salad, and fruit. Weird, huh?**

**7.**

**My roommate and I get along amazingly well. We have so much fun!**

**8.**

**I went to the midnight showing of Twilight and was in the secondmost group in line. We got there about five thirty. (it was a loooong wait). I felt kind of stupid because I am not a hardcore fan, and just in front of us were the rudest, more immature freshman girl BRATS I've ever seen in my life! And if THEY were hardcore, I don't really know what I was doing there so early. lol. **

**9.**

**Studied for finals until six AM, slept until seven, and then went to a final at eight twenty. I was a basket case later that night because I was so tired, I was acting completely intoxicated. My sister and her friends got to know my crazy side pretty fast.**

**10.**

**I am once again reminded of how I cannot cook. I ruined a cup of premaid cocoa for a friend. (you know, the 'just add water!' kind).**

**----**

**Well, that's all the news about me for now. May God bless you guys and bless your 2009!**


	19. It's Worse Than Prom

**Dear Reviewers,**

**Aw, thanks so much, my wittle muffins. It makes me REALLY happy to know people are quoting my story and crying over its contents. Don't be ashamed to cry, BTW. That's okay. It makes an authoress feel as if her job is well done. It's so nice to be back! Read on, read forth! I will see you…on the other side. lol.**

**Sincerely yours,**

**Pip**

**PS: I ruined the cup of hot chocolate very simply. I put in too much water for the amount of powder in the package. The unfortunate recipient of the drink described it as "chocolate flavored water". Eew.**

* * *

**What does AWOL & to 'dedicate it' (to whom, I meant) mean? Explain please.**

* * *

**WARNING**

**BE PREPARED. THERE IS SEVERE GIRLISHNESS IN THIS CHAPTER.**

* * *

**Chapter 19, ****It's Worse Than Prom**

The journey to the castle took place under a blinding white sun, mild in temperature but scaldingly painful to the eyes. I walked alongside troupes of fauns and harp-playing naiads, feeling a little out of place. I wasn't much of a soldier, courtier, servant, or royalty. Not that the happy, celebrational people were broken into castes or stereotypes, but if I could find just _one_ person who knew me or understood me, someone to chat with for the long walk, I may have felt somewhat cheered.

Lucy and Susan looked radiant in their lovely dresses and done-up hair, Edmund and Peter looked cleaner than ever before and dashingly handsome. Caspian looked more like a King then ever—the dwarves fashioned him a huge, gold crown to adorn the top of his head.

Finally, I spotted a familiar face among the hustle and bustle—Trufflehunter and Trumpkin walking side by side. I hurried to join them, exclaiming, "Hello!"

"Why hello there," Trufflehunter said kindly. "It's good to see you up and around."

"Yeah, um, I slept a lot later than I like to, I HATE sleeping in, I thought someone would have woken me," I said automatically, trying to apologize informally for not being much of a help.

"I told'em not to wake you," Trumpkin said, looking grim. "We've all been through hard times afore, and battles and dangers and whatnot, and I imagine it was all the more harder fer you."

"I would agree with that," I said slowly, "For example, I'd never touched a sword in my life before a week ago, I'd never been in a battle, I'd never seen someone die, I'd never killed anyone, I've never…" I stopped. "Here's the thing, though. Just because I'm all inexperienced and everything doesn't mean I get to sleep in during the housecleaning. That's one of the things I know how to do—um, even if I don't do it well."

"Point taken," Trumpkin nodded. "I was just lookin' out fer you, is all. Since it appears no one else will KNOW if they NEEDED to."

"Now now, Trumpkin, what do you mean by that?" Trufflehunter asked. "Now it's none of my business, really, but I sense some kind of reprimand and I demand to know what it is."

"I thought only cats were curious," Trumpkin sniffed.

"As are badgers," Trufflehunter replied, quite serious.

"Well, Miss Pippin here lost a good friend in battle yesterday, and she hasn't bothered to mention to her OTHER friends she feels rotten about it," Trumpkin spoke in a low voice, glancing up at me every so often as if I wasn't supposed to be listening in.

"It's not their problem," I said uncomfortably.

"Shouldn't it be?" Trufflehunter questioned, his eyebrows raised. He looked at me, then Trumpkin. "Death is no small matter."

"I don't think it's a small matter," I said quickly, "It's just…it seems…weak, I guess. Picture this. I run up to Lucy, throw myself in her arms, and whine, 'I made friend! He just died outside!' What shall she say in return? 'I have dozens of friends! And they ALL died! Some of them died before I could return and see them!' Do you see my point, now?"

"Yes," Trufflehunter said quickly.

"No," Trumpkin grumbled, at the same time.

I sighed.

"Everyone grieves in their own way," Trufflehunter said, patting Trumpkins' arm. "Pippin is dealing with these things quietly and giving herself time to get used to all these new—er, traumas, shall we call them—while you prefer to bellow for awhile and then act as if nothing happened."

"Define bellow," Trumpkin growled.

"Let's not have a row," Trufflehunter retracted quickly. "But I have seen you shed your fair share of tears in my day. And then afterwards, you're blooming happy."

"I just want to see 'er cry and get it over with, that's all," Trumpkin mumbled.

"I've cried enough," I said, annoyed. "I've never been much of a crier. But I definitely cried my fair share. No more tears for me. They suck. It all sucks. Crying just…sucks."

"Are you sure it sucks?" Trufflehunter joked. "You might want to say it again. One more time."

I chuckled and repositioned my worse-for-wear book bag over my left shoulder. "Do you even know what I mean by that?" I asked.

"I assume it is something of your own culture," Trufflehunter asserted. "Perhaps meaning the equivalent of nasty, horrible, and disgusting. Am I correct?"

"Inescapably," I smiled at the Badger, who never ceased to be a shining light wherever he went. One couldn't be around him for long and not feel better.

The journey became far more pleasant than I thought it would be. I was too quick to guess I'd be in the back of the line somewhere, left alone with a blizzard of thoughts that I didn't really want to think. Rather, I was walking with a tender-hearted (but gruff on the outside) dwarf and a golden-hearted Badger. Both seemed to genuinely care for me as my normal self. I was steadily more and more grateful for their presence as the trip became longer and more tiresome.

And because it was long and tiresome, which in our modern language means utterly boring, I will skip over the tale for the benefit of the reader. Some of you may be pretty hardcore; and want to hear how I stubbed my toe, tripped over a dead snake in the road, or caught the eye of a cute stable boy as we passed into Telmarine farmlands…but I will refrain from the telling. My fingers are tired of typing this down. I wish I could, like, hold a video camera in front of the page (a page of my freaky powered blank-book turned automatic recorder of events) and then post it on YouTube or something, but alas, there are issues with that. I won't list them here. You can guess.

I will, instead, transport my narration to the beginning of the parade. We were all bunched up in funny little groups at the end of town, waiting our turn, (kind of like floats in a modern Macy Thanksgiving extravaganza!) and then proceeding down the main street. There were all kinds of people lining the streets, throwing flowers, confetti-ish-things, and ribbons.

Everyone was screaming and cheering. Some of the calls I caught out of the roar was "Long Live the True King!" and "Goodness gracious, the Lion has returned from our old fairy tales. Long Live the Lion!" and another solitary cry, from an old man in the crowd, was "See that, Eliza? Now the cruel tax will be alleviated, just you wait and see! We all know that tax merely fed Miraz's personal armory and weapons!" Another voice, the voice of an old woman, shouted, "Oh Caspian! Dear sweet Caspian! I was his nurse once, long ago, when he was a much smaller boy. Look how grown up he is!"

After a while, a smile was tugging the corners of my mouth, until the emotion of gratitude and complete happiness they had began to affect me too. Soon, I was grinning sheepishly, waving, but I kept my eyes mostly on the cobblestone pavement. I had a rather bad experience back in my own world, only weeks before I had an incident in the library. I was in the parade that my small town is famous for… and I tripped and skinned my knee so badly there was blood everywhere, a hole in my jeans, and a limp to guide me for the last few yards of public humiliation. Oh, the lovely things I remember from That Other Place! But thankfully, for this parade, I wasn't trying to lasso a friend of mine (I was dressed as a cowgirl) so there were no clumsy moments to be had.

_Thanks, Aslan_, I thought.

_You're welcome,_ came a bemused reply.

---

I felt famished. Food hadn't been appealing to me lately—but now—it definitely was. My stomach growled like a young dragon. I realized I was looking forward to some food more than anything else in my future—even the ball. But who looks forward to a BALL? I mean…ugh…really.

The parade was over and we'd all gathered in the courtyard of the castle—a great, beautiful brute, of the grayest stone and tallest turrets. It looked so different in the daylight, unthreatening to say the least. Last time I had been standing in the courtyard, I was convinced I was going to die unless Phonnow could find me in the darkness. (Thank the Lion for eagle-eye vision, right?)

"My Lord Caspian," said a deep, but feminine, voice. Queen Prunaprismia was coming down the main steps of the Great Hall, dressed in a very simple dress with only a small jeweled band on her head to show any sign of royalty. "Welcome home," she said, coming close to his horse. Caspian dismounted and walked up to her. She bowed to the floor until she was practically sitting, and then stood, looking awkward. Caspian took her hands in his and said, "Aunt. Can all that has transpired be put behind us? I do not want strife in my family."

Queen Prunaprismia responded by her face contorting, and tears spilling out onto her pale cheeks. "Caspian," she said, sniffing, "Please. Please meet your cousin." With a wave of her hand, a servant came forward with a bundle. The bundle shifted, and a baby's tiny fists stuck out, reaching. Prunaprismia took the baby and held it close for a moment, then extended him to Caspian. "This is Roderine. Your cousin. He…has his fathers' eyebrows."

Caspian put his large hand on Roderine's forehead and touched it lightly, then looked at his aunt. "I am sorry," he whispered, his voice thick. "If only I could have done something differently. If this was how things were not meant to be…"

It was only then I realized how deadly silent everyone was. Quieter than I thought possible. A lone seagull cried on for a moment, then disappeared.

"…No, don't say that," Prunaprismia was saying, "There was no other way. Miraz had to die. It is by law. You take innocent men's lives and you repay with your own. I only want you to know—this is why I hated you so. You were always right. But I do not hate you anymore. I wish to make amends."

"Wish no more, for they have been made," Caspian kissed her cheek and kept one of his arms around her shoulders. "Forgive me."

"Forgive me," Prunaprismia said, nodding. She could seem to look him in the eye. This must be so hard for her! She truly loved her husband, and yet acknowledges him to be a murderer who deserves death. How does one balance the two? How does SHE do it? She must be the strongest woman ever.

"Yes," Caspian answered, stepping back, touching Roderine's head once more. "Roderine is a beautiful child. He will have a good life."

"Thank-you," Prunaprismia handed Roderine to the servant again, and glanced over the entire assembly of animals, creatures, monsters, humans, spirits, and walking vegetation.

"Please!" she said much louder. "You all must be hungry and weary. Welcome to Lord Caspian's household. Come inside to a great feast in your honor. The servants can move all your things to the appropriate chambers...come in, come in…"

The crowd became noisy again, some were applauding and some were cheering, and the whole lot of them moved through a pair of great, tall doors of iron.

There were two, long tables that extended from one end of the room to the other, and if I knew anything I'd say it looked like typical dinner time in the Harry Potter movies. Great chandeliers hung, lit with candles, from metal scrollwork in the ceiling. The tables were laden with all kinds of exotic foods; like stuffed pumpkin cakes, honey-and-chives roasted turkey, cranberry wines, potatoes with onion topping, bread with sausage and cheese in the center, raspberry and peach juice, blackberry pasties, tortillas wrapped around grilled chicken and tomatos…and…

…am I making you hungry yet? I am doing that on purpose, you know. Haha. I didn't intend on going all Carolyn Keene on people. In fact, every kind of food was noted by me and appeared in the magical writing of my Caspian book, but I edited it down because what takes a second to see takes paragraphs to describe. Its ridiculous, really. Anyways, yeah…are you hungry now? I just reread the paragraph, and now I'M hungry. Stupid Narnia food. Alas, I'm on another tangent. To continue.

I was allowed to sit down with everyone, as there were no servants or workers—just hungry soldiers and royalty—and Aslan began a toast.

"May we remember those—Telmarines and Narnians—who have perished," Aslan said gravely, standing at the head of the room, "…to give us the freedom to spend time with our friends, alliances, family" (he said this with a meaningful glance at Prunaprismia) "and let us never forget what they've done for us and all the generations to come. For Narnia and Telmar—united at last." Everyone held up their goblets of refined silver, completing the toast, and drank deeply. Then the conversations began—whirling and swirling around the room like a giant windmill.

I ate my full. After the feast, which consisted of nothing but food and forgotten conversations of no importance, Telmarine men in normal-looking clothes (not the fancy armor I was used to seeing on them) showed everyone to quarters. We went up a huge, gaping flight of gray steps that rivaled the red ones of Gone With the Wind. The walls were tall, and cold, and were graced with silver and black tapestries. The hall was so long and freakin' epic, I expected to see elves and dragons running around as if on daily errands. I was shown to one of the workers rooms on the third floor, which didn't bother me at all. I was grateful to see a bed.

I leapt onto the bed and flopped down, enjoying the complete relaxation of all those muscles that I didn't know I had until it was burning with aches and bruises. A giggling blond naiad and an elderly faun woman were shown to the two other beds.

"Hello, dearie," said the she-faun. "What is your name?"

"Pippin," I said, sitting up and brushing away my horrible hair. "Yourself?"

"I am Lolidai," replied she, "Pleasure to meet you. How about you, my well-dweller friend? Are you going to introduce yourself?"

The naiad, bouncing up and down on her bed and giggling like mad, paused for a moment. "Oh! I am Gregiana. Nice to meet you!" she immediately returned to bouncing. "This is more fun than splashing people," she gushed.

"Yeah," I said, unsure of how to respond. Splashing people, based on my experience, was a lot more fun then jumping on a feather mattress.

"Ooh, would you look at that, a message!" Lolidai trotted over to the door. A raven had flown in, and it held a paper in its mouth. It dropped it on the floor and cawed.

"This is SO much fun," Gregiana leapt off her bed and scuttled to Lolidai's side. "Who is it for, Granny?" she asked, in a very ditsy voice. "I can't read all that rubbish."

"Oh, hush, child, it's the finest script I've seen in ages," Lolidai came to my bed and handed me the paper. "For you, sweet heart."

I looked at it, and it did, indeed, say "Pippin" in a very flowery fancy calligraphy. When I unfolded it, however, I recognized Lucy's scrawl.

_Pippin, _it read, _Come upstairs as soon as you get this. We're going to get all dressed up and pretty. You can use the giant tub up here too. Susan promised to help with your hair, she said we can surely do something with it. Edmund said he'd give you a pair of riding boots so when you dance with people you wouldn't be mistaken for a dwarf, but he was only kidding. I hope the Raven knows where to find you. See you soon—Lucy._

Hair, Susan? Susan is going to do my hair?

Dresses…dresses, Lucy? Really now?

_A tub—clean hair! For the first time in days! How LONG had I gone without a shower, anyway? _Well, we spent a night in the ruins of Cair Paravel, then another night after the gorge, and then we found Caspian…then the Night Raid occurred…

_Oh gosh. I've only been in Narnia for five days._ It felt like ages and years. It's kind of the same when I'd go to Mexico for mission trips. The days pass so slowly, and you are years older when you get back, and no one understands the sudden change.

Five days without a shower. I felt like the missing link. I didn't deserve to touch anyone or be touched. How could anyone HUG me? Maybe they all smelled as bad as I felt.

I looked at the Raven, who was still sitting there, looking at me expectantly with beautiful glittering eyes.

"Can you show me where you got this?" I asked, holding the letter up.

The Raven smiled and nodded, flapped its wings, and took off down the hallway. I grabbed my book bag from where I dumped it on the floor, said a quick goodbye to Lolidai and Gregiana and took off after him, trying to keep up with his sweeping flight.

I ran past gargoyled columns and up to a flight of stairs that split in two directions and led to a balcony that ran on either side of the hallway ceiling. We ran up the left one, made a u turn, and proceeded down the balcony. We passed six doors or so. One of them was open, and I spied Caspian inside, sound asleep on a huge four-poster bed. We went to the open door at the very end (before the railing joined a wall and made a right turn) and the Raven cawed, alighting on the banister and nodding his head.

"Thanks," I said, smiling at him. "I appreciate it." I knocked on the door, and peeked through the opening.

"Come in, come in!" called Lucy. "Pip's here, Su."

I slipped inside and observed a grand room. The ceiling was nearly two stories tall already, with a four-poster-bed extending to the ceiling. White silk curtains hung from its top. Big walnut furniture; like a bed stand, wardrobe, washstand, desk, and a door leading into a bathroom, symmetrically lined the room. I realized the room was round because it was a tower. The ceiling came to a point like a witches hat high above us..

"Slap me thrice and hand me to me mama," I breathed in awe. "Look at this thingy. It's like Filoli. Incredible."

"You should see Caspian's, its twice as nice as this," Lucy said. "And Su's is even nicer. Sit down. We're going to do your hair—wait! No! You're going to take a bath first."

"I need it," I said gratefully, accepting a wad of dark red fabric she handed me. "What's this?"

"Look at it," Lucy said. "It's about my size, but bigger…around the top…" She waved her hand as if she didn't know what she was talking about.

"Hmm?" I unfolded it, and it was a beautiful dress. It was very simple, though. Just dark red, cut with an empire waistline (better known as the Jane Austen style) and short sleeves. It had a slight train.

"Oh heavens," I said, "It's a dress. It's a prom nightmare. It's gorgeous—but—am I supposed to WEAR this? It's so girly!"

"You'll wear it or else," Susan said from the mirror, patting rouge on her cheeks. Her hair was all wrapped up in funny little bows all over. I wanted to laugh at her but refrained.

"Threatening me, your majesty?" I asked cordially, not taking my eyes from the dress. It looked too skinny.

"Yes," Susan said, "Now hurry up! We have so much to do…with that hair of yours. And shoes! We need to find shoes! Lucy…"

"Go through that door," Lucy pointed out what I'd previously guessed to be the bathroom. "And you'll find everything you need. Susan and I will look for shoes."

"I doubt you'll find anything in my size," I said, "But okay. Do I, um, get in this thing right away?"

"We did," Lucy shrugged. She was wearing a lime green gown, decorative and pretty with little bits of gold lace. Susan wore a cloudy white gown with rosy pink hued petticoats and sleeves.

"Here goes nothing," I said, stepping into the bathroom and shutting the door. "Oh," I said, surprised.

The bathroom was huge. There was a big open window (with no glass) looking to the gray and blue sky. Approximately twelve feet in diameter, the big circular tub was full of bubbles. A cabinet holding a bar of soap and a carpet-like towel sat beside the door, and of course there was a hole in the ground to pee in and a washstand. I expected Moaning Myrtle to show up at any moment.

It was the loveliest bath I've ever taken, but I can't say much for washing my hair without real shampoo. The bar of soap served its purpose, since it was very raw, being homemade, and all. My scalp stung with the lye. I found a tiny sliver of metal, very sharp and shiny, sitting on the washstand. It took me a moment or two to realize it was a razor. I was so very happy to use it. Lor' knows I needed it! Five days! Ugh! I looked like some kind of ape. Eew.

I emerged, finished and squeaky clean, with dripping hair, a blotchy clean face, and a gown ready to burst. "I need help…zipping…her…up." I said, taking slow breaths.

"Poor Pippin," said Susan, bursting into loud, rambunctious laughter.

I glared at her and backed up to Lucy's chair. "Silly," said Lucy, "You've got it on wrong." She shifted it and jerked on the skirt till it was quite lower in front. Then with a deep breath, she hooked the tiny threads around each individual button in the back until it was all done up. I found breathing was quite easy, but it kept my back straighter than a ruler. I wouldn't be able to slouch at ALL in it. Dang.

"Are you sure this isn't a little…revealing?" I asked cautiously, looking at myself in the mirror. "That's why I put it on the way it was, it works quite well right around the collarbone…"

"But then you can't button it up," Susan interjected. "It's not inappropriate, if that's what you're worried about. That's going beyond common modesty."

"Ah huh," I replied, and Lucy got out of her chair.

"Sit," she said, "And hold still."

The next half-hour was a montage of busy hair and makeup scenarios I never would have imagined possible for Narnia. Susan tied my wet hair in peculiar strips of cloth (so I had dozens of little bows all over my head and hardly any hair showing at all) and then a she-faun came in with a small parcel. Inside the parcel was; white powder, rouge, flint stone, a smooth tooth-pick like thing, a small glass bottle of orange liquid, a tiny box of squishy waxy stuff, a corked bottle of creamy stuff, and a bunch of tiny sparkly pins.

The faun, named Jillian, took over the work while Susan went back to her room and Lucy ran around doing last minute preparations. First she uncorked the bottle of creamy stuff and put it on my face, like foundation. It smelled peculiarly like oatmeal. Then she applied the white powder all over that (sounds nasty, but no worries, I have deathly white skin so it's not like there was a tan to ruin or something. There's a reason why people used to call me albino child). Then Jillian lit the toothpick thing with the flint, blew the flame out, and used the charcoal to line my eyes. (That's how they did eyeliner back in the twenties. But they had matchsticks). She took a tiny drop of the orange liquid and applied behind my ears and on my neck—it was a musky perfume. I hated the smell, not going to lie. It was…musky. I hate musk. (Did you know they make a lot of musk perfume scents from crocodile glands?) Then she took the tiny box, opened it, and said, "This so your lips won't dry up."

"Chapstick," I thought with relief, putting a tiny glob on my finger and putting it on my lips. It smelled so bad I nearly started hacking. "Oh dear, what is this made of?" I asked, wondering if I really wanted to know.

"Cooks secret," Jillian smiled and clicked her hooves together. "If you must know—beeswax and peppermint. The two create a rather unpleasant smell, but it can't be helped. If you smile at a handsome young man tonight, do you want your lips to start bleeding? How odious they should think you." Jillian gave me a wink and a pat on the head. "You might want a little sleep," she suggested, "Until we take the ribbons out and fix up those curls."

"Okay," I said, unsure, standing up and stretching.

"You don't have to go all the way back to your room," called Lucy, stumbling out of her wardrobe. "Just use my bed. And look at these!" she held up a pair of tiny green slippers. "Try these on!" I did as she said, and even though they were meant for tiny children and therefore a little snug around the heel, it fit well enough. I lay on her bed after thanking both her and Jillian. Lucy crawled up on the tall bed too, and we both began to drift off.

"Do we have an alarm or something so we're not late?" I muttered sleepily.

"Susan is going to wake us up when she takes the rags out of your hair," said Lucy, turning over. "Now hush."

I complied.

* * *

**I just deleted about six pages of this chapter to make chapter twenty, otherwise this whole thing would have been a record-breaking sixteen+ pages. So anyhow, enjoy this *shorter* chapter and the next will be up insanely soon.**

**God Bless,**

**Pippin**

**(this girlishness is giving me the heebiejeebies.)**


	20. Babbling Bumbling Band of Baboons

**BIG…HUGE…NEWS.**

_**Hello **_my** dear fan fiction reviewers! **I have a** fantabulous **_**favor**_to ask of you.

_I have been_** NOMINATED **for the** 2008 Narnia Fan Fiction Revolution Award! **

In the category** "Best New Story of 2008"!!!!**

**Please, please, please, please, please vote for me! :-D**

All you have to do it go to this website:

www . narniafanfiction .com

or you can click on the link in the profile of NFFR Rox:

www . fanfiction .net/~NFFR Rox

or

www. fanfiction .net/u/1132398

**And vote for the categories, (you don't have to vote for all. There's was a few I had never heard of) and vote**

**STRANGE THINGS HAPPEN IN LIBRARIES WITH **

_FOR BEST STORY OF 2008! _

Thanks you guys, it means the world to me. I've never been so excited and surprised! I never thought a self-insert would be nominated…for a contest I didn't even know existed!

* * *

**WARNING**

**Even MORE girlishness. You know, dancing, and stuff. :P**

**Lots and lots of friendship fluff. **

* * *

**Note to Readers:**

**The Alonzo situation is not very fictional. I was running short on girly drama so I used a real-life experience. Of course, the names have been changed to protect the individual. :-)**

* * *

**---**

**Chapter 20, Babbling Bumbling Band of Baboons**

**---**

It seemed like hours before Susan shook me awake. "Half hour is up," she said sternly. "Get up sleepyheads. All of this will be for naught if you rub it all off on the bedclothes." I admired the curls in her hair, as she had removed the rags from hers just before waking us up.

"I had the loveliest dream last night," I said, quoting Pippin. (the other one).

"Really?" asked Lucy.

"No, actually," I said, disappointed that I didn't. "Nice nap though. Felt like days."

And it certainly seemed like days before Susan was able to get all the rags out. She had to start from the bottom of my scalp and work her way up to the crown. And when all the rags were thoroughly rid of, my hair was sticking out in all directions in wild eighties curls.

"I look like a moose," I tried to sound like Anne Hathaway. Don't know if it worked or not.

"Oh hush," Susan said crossly, "I'll soon put it to rights."

"Bother thick hair," Lucy said sympathetically.

"Yeah, bother," I mumbled. Susan used water to smooth the top, then took a bunch of the tiny sparkly pin things and began putting back the strands that were trying to look like a Picasso painting. Some of my hair (not holding curl very well has been the bane of my existence as a girl) was pinned up in a few moments, except for small tendrils of curl hanging around my face and neck.

"It looks nice," I said gratefully, "Thank-you."

Susan surveyed it critically. "It should hold. If it doesn't, just shake your mane out and let it do what it will."

"That may cause a scandal, people might think I'm a creature from the Black Lagoon," I joked, patting a wispy into place. "Thanks, Susan. This was really sweet of you. Should I feel weird? That like, royalty did my hair and stuff?"

"Oh, nonsense, we're not royalty here, technically." Susan shook her head. "I mean, we are, but, we do not have our own flags, herald, servants, guards, personal attendants, duties, civil disputes to fix, or any of the sort. We're just guests here so we have to do things ourselves."

"Except me?" I asked meekly.

"Precisely. Because you are a hopeless girl." Susan flounced out the door, calling, "See you downstairs in ten minutes, Lucy! No less!"

"I'd never make it as a Queen," I said to Lucy, standing and going to the door. "You wanna walk down now, or should I go, and you two have like…a royal entrance or something…"

"I misplaced a shoe, it fell off during my nap," Lucy dived under her bed.

"Your MAJESTY!" cried Jillian, emerging from the bathroom. "You'll muss your hair! Please! Let me do everything for you. It's an honor. Really. Out of there this instant!"

Lucy peeked her head out. "I'm in good hands," she grinned, "Go on ahead. I'll see you down there. If you're not dancing already."

"Okey dokey," I said, picking my way carefully down the hall I had paraded through like a young elephant only an hour or so ago. The sky had grown to a dark sapphire blue, past the hour of twilight but not fully dark, and gave the head of the stairs a queer aquarium look. I proceeded down, and the loud crowd noises reached my ears. I could hear distinctive music—lutes and flutes and weird stringed box-shaped things—and the laughter and words of hundreds of people.

After going down the split stairs, I went down the hall, passed my own room and saw that Lolidai and Gregiana were no longer inside. I went on, and then thought I was lost for a moment, but realized I'd taken a left when I should have taken a right. I took the right and it led me to The Grand Staircase. This one was carpeted in something black and velvety. When I got to the bottom, there were groups of people so condensed and loud I didn't know if I'd be able to go in. The Great Hall was pretty dark and smoky, but torches lit the walls and the chandelier was lit too. Some kind of glittered glass lined small tables and mantles with tiny candles in them, sending shards of sparkling light everywhere. It was different than I expected. The saloon lighting, compared to the Hollywood florescene used in a Knight's Tale and Robin Hood, was changing everything I thought about the old days.

"Oy! Pippin!" shouted Edmund, suddenly at my side. "'bout time you girls showed. Where's Su and Lucy?"

"They're on their way," I hollered back.

"What?" Edmund shouted.

"SOON!" I replied.

"Well, come on, don't gawk, you look lovely, by the way," Edmund took my hand and led me into the jungle of people. "Come to our corner."

"What?" I shouted.

"NEVER YOU MIND!" Edmund screeched.

"Well thank-you for the compliment!" I hollered.

"YEAH!" Edmund answered. We came to a break in the crowd, and arrived in the corner of the Great Hall, where a small torch illuminated a table where Peter and Caspian sat, deep in conversation but smiling.

"And sometimes I wonder if I am the only one who notices such nonsense," Caspian was exclaiming.

"Yeah, me too!" Peter was saying. "It's as if, they look at you, as if you've done something wrong, only to make you ask what's wrong, and they say 'I'm fine'."

"If you are talking about girls, I will tell you my perspective on the matter," I said, sitting down without invitation. "I always say 'I'm fine' when everything's wrong. I say 'Oh, nothing's wrong. Don't worry. Why'd you ask?' when everything's fine. Does this clear things up?"

"So perhaps Queen Susan IS offended," Caspian said in horror.

"No, see, that's the problem," Peter added, "Is that is varies with different kinds of girls. Isn't that right, Pippin?"

"Good call. That IS right, Peter," I laughed.

"And Susan and Pippin are about as different as night and day," Peter settled back in his chair as if to settle the point. "So there you have it. You'll never know unless you ask."

"Oh, where'd Edmund go?" I asked, looking back into the throng of peoples.

"Oh, I don't know," Peter took a swig from an old-fashioned looking mug. Like the kinds they had in those old 1700s bars. "But now that he's gone, I can ask YOU a question, Pippin."

"Go for it," I said, ignoring an uncomfortable cringe in my stomach.

"Is there something… um…" Peter broke into a grin and leaned back, looking at Caspian.

"Go on," said Caspian. "I won't watch if it helps."

Peter gave him a confused look that said, 'where do you come UP with these things?' and looked back at me. "Alright, now don't be offended, but…is there something that. Well, no, I'll rephrase that. DoyouhavefeelingsforEdmund?"

"Would you mind repeating that…" I said flatly, knowing full well what he had said. I just wanted to make sure I wasn't imagining it.

"Do you have feelings for Edmund?" asked Peter, glowing red.

"Yes," I said, in my most serious voice, with no hint of a smile. "How did you guess?"

"It's…obvious…" Peter said politely.

"Well, if it's THAT obvious, I don't know what YOU were seeing," I broke into a huge smile and started laughing. "Because I definitely DON'T. He's like, what, fourteen? Fifteen? People. Come ON."

"Oh, you don't," repeated Peter, confused.

"Of course not, monkey," I shook my head. "Don't think I haven't considered it, now. I won't lie. He's cute and attractive and funny. But the age difference and personality complex overrides any inkling of possibility. Get that silly notion out of your heads this instant, and never let it trouble you again. I haven't let it trouble ME since the conscious descision to not let hormones override reason."

"I told you this was a bad idea. Maybe now you should ask her if she's okay," Caspian hissed, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"What brought all this on?" I asked. "Does he have feelings for ME?"

"No. I don't think so." Peter shook his head. "No, actually, I know he doesn't. In fact I asked."

"How embarrassing," I said flippantly. "Well, since you have my lack of love life figured out, care to suggest anyone around the room?"

Peter and Caspian both looked over my shoulders expectantly. "Antonio is a good man," offered Caspian. "Would you like me to introduce you?"

"Um," I said, "The offer is tempting. Maybe…yes. Yes please." I actually blushed a little. I never blush. I can blush on command, and if I'm trying to fool people into thinking I'm lying or I'm embarrassed, I do it. But blushing naturally? Hm.

"Yeah, Caspian," I said, grinning. "A few introductions would be a breath of fresh air."

Suddenly Edmund was at my side with two mugs. "Here," he said, handing me one. "I got you a drink. Don't know if you'll like it. It's mead. But you can try it anyhow. If you don't you can have my cider."

I tried the mead and promptly traded with him. "Thank-you," I said sweetly.

"Oh, your welcome," Edmund grinned. Despite the DTR (college lingo. It means Defining The Relationship) happening between two third parties that had no say in the matter, I couldn't help but feel somewhat relieved to know that there was nothing to worry or get hormonally stressed about.

A hand touched my shoulder lightly. I expected Lucy and turned with a smile, only to find an unfamiliar Telmarine smiling down at me. "Would you care for a dance?" he asked in a thick accent. _Wow. The Telmarine's are who's bringing sexy back. Justin Timberlake can just go back to the Disney channel and shame their honor._

Edmund snorted with laughter inside his goblet.

I responded with some kind of squeak never before heard by human ears. The Telmarine took my hand (his hand was like Fezzik the giant's) and led me through the crowd. We got to the open floor (if OPEN is the right word choice) and joined a waltz.

"It's a good thing I know how to waltz," I said, smiling at the dark-haired, dark-eyed young man. "I am a very bad dancer, you see, but I learned how to waltz from watching the King and I when I was little, and it isn't so much rhythm as it is a pattern…and…sorry. I guess none of what I'm saying makes sense to you."

"I am afraid I am ignorant of Narnian phrases," said the boy apologetically.

"I'm not Narnian," I corrected him, "I'm an immigrant."

He chuckled. "I am Stefan of the House of Wahnez. May I know that name of the lovely immigrant I am dancing with?"

"Uh," I said, looking down at my feet to make sure I was doing everything right. "Pippin. Pippin Baggins." _I am never going by my authoress fan fiction name again. It sounds so ugly…too many consonants…_

"It is my honor and pleasure to make your acquaintance," said Stefan. "So what brings you to our land in its darkest hour?"

"Darkest hour?" I repeated.

"Well, I am a Telmarine," he shrugged, as if the reasoning was obvious. "My people have been made a conquest by conquerors. They are good conquerors, that much is clear. The tyrannical dictator is dead, that is true also. But my kinsmen and brothers have died in defeat. Do you understand?"

"I do," I replied. "And I am sorry for your loss. I hope the grieving passes easily for you. I can hopefully encourage you by saying you are in good hands. Caspian will be a fair and just ruler. Surely you know this—I mean, he grew up here, right?"

"Yes," said Stefan. "So you do not think me treacherous for my point of view?"

"No." I said stubbornly. "I've always been in the middle when it comes to politics. Except abortion. But that is based on my spiritual beliefs. This is like, border dispute. And I get it. Just try to grin and bear it, and it will pay off in the end, because good service is well-rewarded. Things will be better under Caspian's rule—just you wait and see."

"And I think I will, he comes highly recommended," Stefan smiled down at me. "I thank-you." The song ended, and I curtsied as well as I could, and he bowed.

"May I escort you back to your seat?" he asked.

Before I could answer, a second Telmarine trotted up. "I believe this next dance may be granted to me," he said rather haughtily. This guy was ten times hotter than anyone in the whole room—even Peter. He looked down at me. "If the little Lady would have me."

"Um, okay," I said, a little unsure. He grasped my hands and whirled me away, just as I let out a wind-blown, "Bye, Stefan!" We began this weird waltz-like dance, but it was a lot fancier and swirlier and involved stopping and clapping every few moments.

"You are unfamiliar with our traditional dances," remarked the Telmarine.

"Yes!" I struggled with the footwork, tripping over the dress and nearly stomping on someone elses' train.

"Well, allow me to introduce your new instructor," the Telmarine twirled me and pulled me into something resembling a big bear hug. "I am Alonzo."

"Pippin," I managed to squeak out, before he whirled me in a dizzying circle and jerked me back again.

"I think I might—sit this one out!" I gasped, getting incredibly dizzy. "Maybe we should go talk about the weather. And owning a cat. Favorite coffee shops, that kind of thing. If the chemistry is right we may even go as far as discovering that we like the same rock band."

"Oh, nonsense, just focus on your feet," said Alonzo. "Pay attention to the flow of music through your veins."

I burst out laughing. This guy wasn't real. I was dreaming. He was ridiculous.

"I must tell you," Alonzo pulled me close and hissed in my ear, "When I saw you across the room, I felt my soul had suddenly become whole even though I did not know it was missing a piece. Will you…"

I pushed away from him. "Whoa, buddy. Hold your horses. Don't you even THINK the phrase love at first sight, or I will beat you and pickle your brains. Savvy?"

"Are you rejecting me?" Alonzo said, his face turning into the perfect picture of misery. "How can you? We have barely had time to talk. You have not heard…"

"I don't think I want to." I said, discreetly leaning away. This was of no avail. He leaned towards me romantically, his lips beginning to pucker up…

"FREAK!" I erupted. "What the heck are you DOING?"

Alonzo pulled back as if I was suddenly a bug zapper lamp. "I have caused you discomfort," he said sorrowfully, "Do you need some air? I am sure there is a place to sit in the courtyard…"

"No thank-you." I scooted back until I was positive there was a full two feet of open floor space between us. "Now stop it. Leave me alone."

"But, Miss Pippin!"

"Stop."

"Surely you—"

"Zip."

"But you can't possibly—"

"Shut UP, Alonzo." I turned to walk away, and nearly knocked poor Prince Caspian over onto his butt. He grasped my arm to keep from falling and looked over my shoulder.

"Still up to your courtier games, Alonzo?" Caspian righted himself, looking completely bemused. "How much of the tankard have you drunk? And how many females do you plan on proposing to tonight?"

Alonzo shook his head and walked, depressed and dejected, out of sight. I waved as if sad to see him go, but the gesture was pure sarcasm.

"Would you like to sit down?" Caspian asked.

"You wanna dance?" I answered with a question.

"Tempting, but I am afraid I must decline," Caspian offered me his arm, which I readily accepted. "I confess I am hoping to ask Queen Susan for a dance."

"Knock yourself out," I said happily, detaching. "Good luck, champ. I'll find my own way back. Thank-you for the bailout. I was wondering if I was ever going to get rid of him."

I squeejeed my way back to the corner table. "What a party," I said, sitting down.

"Fun?" asked Peter.

"One dance was educational. The other had a severe case of eager lips."

"WHAT?!"

I shook my head. "I am not going to tell you who it is. Cuz then you'll just kill him. And that wouldn't be very nice."

"I wasn't really thinking along THOSE lines," Peter shrugged. "But, you're fine, right?"

"Why do you always have to ask?" I teased him. "I can take care of myself."

Peter slammed his mug down on the table, laughing with pure annoyance. "Oh, my god, Pippin, how many instances should I name where that wasn't the case? You had to ask how to—um, never mind that one. Oh, Phonnow had to rescue you out of the courtyard. Oh, AND You went and got yourself captured by Miraz…" Peter must have ADD, because then he became totally distracted. "Speaking of which, how is your nose?"

"There's a bump," I said, "But it's not too sore anymore. There's naught but a teeny tiny scab on my chin, which you can't see because I've been pancaked and powdered, and I am bruised all freakin' over. There's my list. Oh, and I'm mentally and emotionally scarred, too. By the way, I recall exactly THREE times saving your butt while in the midst of heated battle."

"Oh, I recall those, too," Peter held up his glass. "To you, little knight."

I held up mine accordingly. "And to you, stubborn High King Peter."

There was a whoosh and suddenly Edmund was seated next to me, breathing hard. "Woo," he said, "Those naiads sure do like to dance."

"You ASKED a naiad? Do you remember NOTHING from our time?" Peter exclaimed dubiously.

"She kidnapped me, no lie," Edmund took my mug from my hand and took a swig from it. "I stood up three times with her. Finally I told her she winded me. I'm ready for some human company."

"Good LUCK," I said, with a pointed look at Peter. "I'm a hobbit, and he's a monkey."

Peter raised his eyebrows, and Edmund laughed loudly.

"MONKEY?" repeated Peter finally. "Oh, good luck trying to get me to dance with you _now._"

"He's a lot more carefree and flirtatious when he DOESN'T have the world on his shoulders," I said to Edmund. "Should we call a doctor?"

"Look who's talking," Peter stood up. "You've gotten hit in the head so many times I've lost count. Why don't we just dance, and get it over with."

"Fine!" I said, frowning and pushing back from the table. I slammed my mug down, linked arms with Peter, and stomped towards the dance floor. "But I won't enjoy myself one bit," I growled.

"I can assure you, I won't either," Peter took my right hand and put his on the left of my waist and we started doing this weird prancing waltzy jumpy thing. I did my best to follow along but it wasn't anything short of giving Gene Kelly and Fred Astaire heart attacks—in their graves.

When the dance was over, Peter bowed, I curtsied, and we went back to the table. "That was eventful," I said. "Don't tell me you didn't enjoy yourself just one teeny tiny bit?"

"You're a terrible dancer," Peter replied. When I frowned, he added, "Yes. I'll admit it. I enjoyed myself immensely. Now don't tell me _you_ didn't."

"I won't. It was fun," I sat down and went to take a sip of cider, but it was empty. Edmund wasn't at the table, but I finally spotted him dancing with Lucy. They weren't doing much, just holding hands and stepping from side to side. It was one of the most adorable things I've ever seen. I also spotted Caspian and Susan dancing, and I won't lie, they looked like they were having a romantic, deep conversation—one of those forehead-to-forehead deals.

"I have nothing to offer," I said in a higher-pitched exaggeration of Susan's voice.

"I don't care about any of that," I responded in Caspian's voice. "I only want you."

"Oh, but, DAHLING!"

"Hush, my love. Remember. We must keep it a secret!!!"

"What are you DOING?" Peter asked.

"Voiceovers. That's what I do when overlooking a large crowd of people. You pick someone out and try to act out what it _looks_ like they're saying. It's mucho fun!"

"How amusing," he said dryly.

I looked around the room for more victims, and noticed Edmund and Lucy running up towards us hand in hand.

"I can't believe I'm actually staying up this late," Lucy gushed, sitting down.

"Don't get used to it," Peter said sternly. "Queen or not, you're a young girl who needs her sleep."

Edmund slumped down next to me. "I am utterly and completely exhausted," he said, "So you ought to honor me with a dance, Pip, before I fall asleep where I sit."

"Very well, little man," I said, standing. "Come on." I held up my hand and jerked him to his feet, and we made our way onto the dance floor.

"So, this is my first ball," I said, putting my hand on his shoulder. We were dancing a rather normal waltz, so I was at ease to have conversation. "Back in my end of the universe we have dances and stuff. But that's with, you know, electrics lights, really heavy rap music, and…"

"What's rap?" asked Edmund.

"Well, okay, you know that rock and roll stuff?" I asked.

"You mean that new style?" Edmund asked, interested. "All I ever hear is crooners. But there is this kind I heard with guitar and drums. I've heard like—one song—but Mum turned the radio off. In fact most people call it the Devil's Music."

"Well, it's like that," I tried, "But…more evil. Haha."

"Well, what does it sound like?"

"Which one?"

"Rock AND rap."

"Well, okay, the rock you're thinking of sounds something like this," I cleared my throat. _"You ain't nothin' but a hound dog! Cryin' all the time! You ain't caught a rabbit, you ain't no friend of mine!" _

"Okay, got it. Remind me I need to go to confession next time I hear that," Edmund said in a monotone. "There's nothing wrong with it."

"Certainly isn't," I chirped.

"Now, what's rap?" repeated Edmund.

"Well, see, the problem is, I'm not too sure of any rap lyrics. I just know of bits and pieces."

"Make it up," Edmund shrugged his shoulders as if it was nothing.

"Ohhoho!" I chortled. "Just 'make it up'? It's not so easy. Rap is a difficult style and only the talented make it. Take Eminem. He's very talented. You can't just…_rap_!"

"Oh, nonsense, you can't tell me about music I've never heard but would like to and then keep it a secret. Go _on_!"

"Oh, fine, let me think for a moment." I recalled a silly rap I made up in high school and added a few more rhyming phrases to it. "Um, okay, here goes," I warned. _"Every time I try to sing a funny little rap, it all comes a fallin' out a soundin' like some crap. Now I've shamed myself in front of a King and this is why I really shouldn't try to ever sing. _That doesn't do it justice by a long shot."

"Sounds awful," Edmund commented.

"Well, you'd have to hear the good stuff," I protested in its defense. "It's a peculiar genre. But it grows on you. I hated it until I started listening to it, because my sister is a dancer, and she uses that music a lot to dance to."

"Tap dance or ballet?"

"Haha! Neither! Hip hop, break danceish, pop stuff! It's not your time yet. You wouldn't know."

"Not my time yet?" Edmund asked, confused.

"Oh, Edsy," I cringed. "I don't know if I ever told you this…but…I've from the future. I'm from the same world as you. But…later. Year 2008, actually. The month of July."

Edmund's mouth dropped open.

"Hate me?" I asked meekly.

"That explains A LOT," Edmund answered. "And that's all I'm going to say on the matter."

"Oh, okay, that's sweet of you," I was pleasantly surprised. "Just so you know, rock and roll didn't really roll around until the fifties. It's kind of before your time. I'm surprised you've heard any at all."

"Perhaps it was swing," Edmund shrugged. "You know, you could have mentioned something before," he added.

"Yes, you're right, I could have. It kind of slipped my mind. I told Susan in order to make amends for our personality conflicts. Since WE got along so splendidly, I didn't find it entirely necessary. But I hinted enough. Remember when I was talking about FILMS made about YOU in the future? Your entire story is known to the world but believed only fiction?"

"I thought that was…playful banter, joking…mocking us, if you will," Edmund said, shocked. "You mean that's true?"

"Mmhm," I acknowledged, looking down at my feet. "Sorry if you're mad."

"No. I'm disappointed," Edmund said, but it wasn't the horrible betrayal sounding tone that fathers use in epic Hollywood movies. "You can tell me anything, you know, I don't mind. It's all right with me."

"You're a good friend. It goes likewise with me," I said, lifting my chin and looking him right in the eye. "You're one of my best friends. Funny we've only known each other five—well, six now—days?"

"Time goes slowly in Narnia, it always has," Edmund grinned. "Although I'd say you befriended others even faster. Trufflehunter, Caspian…and Shade, for instance. Where is that tiger, anyway? Caspian intends on knighting him on the morrow."

Stone faced, I said quietly, "He's dead."

Edmund's smile fell, and his thick eyebrows knotted together in a mix of shock, anger, sadness, and maybe a little concern. "You didn't tell me that one, either," he replied, also very quiet.

"I'm sorry," I said, "I have no excuse. Well, actually, I do. I don't want to do any excusing."

Instead of growing angry, Edmund pulled me into a hug. "_I'm _sorry," he said. "Just let me know if there is anything I can do."

"There is none," I said, my face rather uncomfortably smashed into his shoulder. After a prolonged second, I added, "I feel like I'm hugging an iron lamppost."

Edmund pulled back, the normal smirk half-heartedly coming back. "I'm not that bony."

"But you're not that muscly, either," I teased. "Um, we're been kind of standing here like this forever. I'm pretty sure there've been two other dances whirling around that we have been completely unaware of. Shall we sit back down?"

"Yeah," Edmund took my arm and together we went back to the table. All this running back and forth between the dance floor and the table was making me dizzy!

"You were out there forEVER," chided Lucy as we clambered onto the bench. I love the way she says 'there' like 'thah'.

"Not only was I being educated in different styles of music," Edmund kissed the top of the Lucy's head, "But we had things to talk about and dances to dance!"

"I kind of want to turn in," I said sleepily. "I'm tired and my feet did a lot of walking today."

"You can't go to BED," Lucy said, as if the very thought was ghastly.

"Why ever NOT?" I replied with some British-accented sarcasm.

Lucy looked at me in disbelief. "Well! There's the bonfire. And the trees and fauns dance! And then there's the midnight feast!"

"Isn't it past midnight?" I yawned.

"Oh, I don't think so!" Lucy scoffed. "Hardly! And it's not like the meal occurs precisely at one. Sometimes at three AM!

"Oh," I said, looking away to hide a grimace. If it was important to Lucy, then I'd stay, but the Pevensie's had yet to see what happens when I stay up way past my bedtime. Just after the battle didn't count, because that was exhaustion and depression combined. When I'm just your average 'sleepy'…I'm known to become a little loopy. More than usual, at least. In fact, to put it awkwardly, I act completely intoxicated, and a few of my friends have had the misfortune of being at an all-nighter with me and suffering the consequences.

"Of course I'll stay," I said cheerfully, but deep down, I was yawning horrendously and hoping that the lack of sugar intake during this entire trip would benefit my typical 'boy, I'm up past bedtime!' mental state.

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**Thanks for reading you guys, without you, I wouldn't have been blessed with a nomination for these awards! I was squealing and acting giddy and odd when I found out. It's so EXCITING! And if you would like to support my story, please vote for it!!**

**(and for those of you who read this story and have also been nominated for the same category, don't feel obligated, lol.)**

**I do not recall all the names of the other nominees, but I'd like to send a congrats to Thalion King's Daughter for her "Best All Around Author of 2008" nomination too! If you like us, and we hope you do, support TKD and PB!**


	21. The Night And The Morning After

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: [importante!]**

Thank-you SO much for voting! IF YOU HAVE NOT voted yet, please do. I am currently in second place and voting ends TOMORROW. I'm in like, little author-panic-mode. :-O

Thanks again! PS. Sorry This Chapter is Short.

I was re-watching Prince Caspian today, and you can totally see Shade during the Night Raid. The scene where Nikabrik and the Minotaur and standing at the edge of the field, waiting for signal, Shade is standing just on the other side, in case any of you wanted something visual. Go check it out!

If ya'll want some "Strange Things" action during the wait for Dawn Treader, check out my FIFF series. There is one posted about my best friend (Holly) and I getting dropped into Pirates of the Caribbean. I am in the process of writing another where Holly and I travel into the Harry Potter world (I will post that within the next month and a half, I think!) After Pirates and HP, I'll need some suggestions as to what world Holly and I should go to next! Any votes for Twilight?

The italisized paragraph is a PARAPHRASE of C. S. Lewis description, with modern references and more adjectives on my side. I felt I could not describe it without using some of his words, as he used the most simple and beautiful. You can read the passage in Chapter 15 of Prince Caspian so you may see his own immortal words. And Edmund eating the dirt is PURE Lewis! :-)

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**Chapter 21, The Night and the Morning After**

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Lucy was right when she told me indignantly that going to bed was not, and never would be, an option. So I gulped more cider and hoped that there was caffeine in it and prepared to expend my energy on frivolous, light-hearted fun. Soon the Telmarine style ball was drawing to a close, couples were going outside, and interspecies conversation turned toward Narnian tradition and the careful switch of hostess'.

Aslan was now in the lead for activity, everyone began looking to him near the front of the ballroom for some kind of signal. Or, at least, this is what the body language appeared to be. The conversations were dying down, and some people were yawning.

Aslan rose on his hind legs for a moment, clapped his front paws together in a most human fashion, and got everyone's attention immediately. "Never before has there been, or ever will be, such a celebration honoring the dead and intermingling cultures." He said, his eyes gleaming with something I could only imagine as intense love for his people. "But now it is time for us to do something for our hostess. We shall proceed outdoors into the great field just beyond the village and make a great fire, and dance until the stars are in slumber. Come one, come all. The night is young yet, and we may rest easy that this time is well-deserved and is continually brining us together as a family."

People clapped and gave surprised exclamations of excitement, and people began crowding up at the doors. I joined Caspian's side, not really wanting to be Miss Tiny Fish in the Ocean of People.

"Sorry Pippin, I should go over there," Caspian said apologetically, gesturing towards Aslan and the four Sovereign Cranky-Pants waiting for everyone else to exit. "But go on ahead."

"I don't want to go by myself," I said, purely whining. Not because I wanted to stay with the royals-who-had-duties so much, but because I didn't see anyone I recognized in the crowd.

"Well, here," Caspian drew my arm over to the left of the bedazzled mosh pit. "Antonio!"

"My Prince," the handsome boy, no older than nineteen, bowed.

"Take care of our little friend for us. See she is looked after and has company."

"Yes my Prince, with pleasure," said Antonio, bowing a second time, his voice purely formal and eager to do his bidding because he was the awesome Caspian.

"I am not a Mary Sue, I am not a Mary Sue, I am not a Mary Sue," I began repeating quietly under my breath.

"I am Antonio," said the poised teenager, sounding very much like a tour guide. "Who may I have the pleasure of escorting?"

"Pippin Baggins," I said, cringing at my stupid penname. (Hm, would anyone object to some kind of modification if this ever happens to me again? What if I introduced myself as Anne with an E? Or Cordelia? Or Lady Catrinamagoobahstein?

"Miss Baggins," nodded Antonio curtly. "I am Antonio of the House of Rillsteen. Are you of need anything at the moment? A cloak, perhaps?"

"Oh. Well." I said, feeling the stiffness of this conversation. "Um, is it cold outside?"

"The temperature is fairly mild, we are in the throes of summer evenings," Antonio replied calmly. "Perhaps we can better judge when we reach the outdoors, and I can fetch you something if you are in discomfort."

"You're very nice," I said, trying to break the iron-ice wall. It felt awkward, like servitude. "Have you had practice like…being the host kind of person?"

"Thank-you for your compliment," said Antonio. "I have been under the wise guidance of my tutor in all things gentlemanly."

"Erm, okay," I shrugged. "That's…cool?" There was a silence then, and we went under the archway into the courtyard. Dim embers burned in a grate on three legs—like a Barbie cake! (Or was it Bubba's Cupid?) and the stones reflected a periwinkle sky. The temperature felt fine, but one could just tell it would chill up later.

"Perhaps I'd better go get that cloak," I suggested, turning back.

"Allow me," Antonio said gracefully, trouncing away with the all the clumsiness of a ballet dancer in Swan Lake.

"Ugh," I said as he left. "Can we get any more business like? We needs to do something. He seems like he's never had any fun in his LIFE!" I began to contemplate various ways I could get him to let the guard down, and if that was of no avail, what kind of tortures I could conjure to make him lose his temper and feel normal, not like those "Good morning Dave" computers.

Antonio returned gave me a black cloak, and it triggered a few memories and thoughts that I decided to use against his formality. I shall skip over the ten-minute walk from the castle, across the bridge, into the village, and down a steep path to the open field. Everyone spread out, and some screamed in surprise when great trees walked openly away from the forest borderline and began snapping off their own fingers for firewood. Some pulled bothersome branches as large as two feet thick from their piney scalp and muttered, "Been wanting to get rid o' that for ages," and dumped it in a symmetrical pile. A tree woman, nearly seven feet tall and skinny as a pencil, stood wavering at my side, small bits of willow shimmering on her head and trailing off onto the ground. "Hello," she said loudly down to me. "Enjoy your party?"

"I did!" I replied, grinning. "You, Antonio?"

"It was to my liking," Antonio said without emotion. _Antonio is just like the Mr. Roboto! Domo Domo! Domo Domo!_

"Now it is time for the TREES to feast," the willow tree chuckled, not unpleasantly. She scooded up a handful of dirt from the ground, very clayish and red, and took a big bite.

"How is it?" I asked, faking an appetizing voice.

"Like cheese to a human," she explained. "Care for a taste?"

"It gives humans sickness unfortunately, otherwise I would," I said truthfully.

"See that over there?" the willow pointed a long, bony, knotting finger over to a few oak-men tearing up the ground with their roots. "That is like chocolate. It is a thick mud. And this," she pointed near our feet. "This dusty top soil is comparable to every spice known to man. And THIS…" she put a long, seven-fingered hand on my shoulder and turned me the opposite way and gestured to a rise in the ground. "That fresh loam over there is like whipped drink. Very soothing on a throat if the bark is feeling rougher than usual."

"This has been very educational!" I smiled stupidly, feeling eight years old and loving ever second of it. "It looks so good, too!"

"Oh it is!" Willow bobbed and weaved her head in agreement. "I must go over and see my husband. You see, he has a nasty case of grapevine all over his poor head, and I am afraid he likes the fruit enough to make him a bit tipsy. Do you see him?" she whipped me around again and pointed towards a gnarly old maple throwing twigs into the bonfire—steadily growing taller and taller. "That old codger," the willow said, very affectionately. "That's him. Is he not the sweetest thing you have ever seen in your young lifetime?"

"He certainly is something," I agreed. "Handsome, too."

"You certainly know your trees," Willow smiled—the bark around her mouth and nose crinkled into green wrinkles and strands of leaves fell away from her face. "Farewell for now. It was lovely talking at you." I snickered with her choice of words as she floated away.

"Narnia is the most incredible place," I breathed, fleetingly wondered if I was just drugged and in a hospital somewhere and I would awake to find it all a dream.

"It is everything I was told as a boy during story tellings," Antonio mused out loud. "So wondrous to see it come to life as if it had always belong amongst us humans while we knew naught of its existence."

"It speaks!" I exclaimed. "Hi. I'm Pippin. Call me Pip or Pippin. No Miss Baggins."

"But, Miss Bagg…"

"Baggins Gaggins," I snorted. "Can I call you Tony? Or is Antonio what you prefer?"

"I, um," said Antonio, breaking his robot character. "I don't know. Whatever you like, I suppose?"

"Tony," I smiled at him. "Now! Let's go cause mischief. First on the list—a prank. Then we'll scare someone."

"I don't really participate in childs' play," Antonio said, very uncomfortably.

"We all get to be kids tonight. Lighten up!" I began walked over to where I spotted Edmund's dark hair over the light-colored fauns in a large group.

"Yo, Edsy boy," I said loudly. "I don't suppose you've heard that the trees eat this dirt over yonder for chocolate, do you?"

"Show me!" Edmund declared, and the three of us proceeded to a mound of dark, frothy dirt that looked so impeccably tasty that Edmund grabbed a handful of it.

"I SO dare you," I said darkly.

"You wouldn't," said Antonio, abashed.

"I do!" I snapped.

"You're on," Edmund took a bite.

"You actually listened to me?" I asked quickly, laughing fanatically, a little too villain-like for the situation. It caused a few glances, but I knew it was inevitable, as I grow drunk with sleepiness if kept up past bedtime. Like a friend of mine calls it—Happy hour!

Edmund spit out the dirt and started coughing.

"Haha," I said, looking to Antonio to see if he was enjoying this as much as I was. His face was growing red with indignation, and after a moment, a sharp laugh came tumbling out. He slapped a hand over his mouth and turned away so he wouldn't look impolite. But he continued to shake his shoulders…ah well, hilarity will be hilarity!

"Laugh it up, champ," I said. "How are you feeling, Edmund?"

Edmund was salivating, spitting, then spitting again. "DISGUSTING. You are an evil, evil girl."

"I know," I said flirtatiously. I'm sorry…I can't help it. I get so flirty when I'm tired. You all should have seen me last night, er, this morning at two thirty while hanging out in the lobby here in college. I was like London from the Disney Channel on fruit punch. But that is another story for another time.

"I think I have ADD," I said out loud. No one paid any attention, as the bonfire was lit and great flames roared into the sprinkled night sky. Antonio grinned at it, looking slightly boyish and carefree. Then he smiled at me and said, "Now…what about scaring someone? I don't suppose this once would be to harmful."

To summarize the rest of the night, we used the black cloak to sneak up on moles and then scream "NAZGUL" at them just as they popped out of their holes. They started fighting back and several of us got into a dirtclod fight. Then we joined some dancing fauns, which involved a lot of bouncing and falling. Then after that, some of us got to try and catch the drunk Hollies who were running around and asking everyone if they were hiding pairs of pruners. Giant fireworks, bigger than Gandalf's pride and joy itself, erupted from the tallest turrets of the castle, causing 'ooh's' and 'aah's' all over the place. All in all, the night was spent in pure joy, and Antonio grew to be a lot more fun to hang out with than he first implied. He still didn't speak unless prompted, but his answers grew more honest than rehearsed.

It was not until the crowds seemed to speak in lower tones, that I was able to stop committing devilries and take a moment to step back and look over the view. For a second, I felt as if I were glimpsing the purity and everlasting peace that I would one day see in Heaven. Almost as if a voice, sounding suspiciously like Anthony Hopkins, began narrating the scene, I recalled words from a distant memory that seemed to wrap the whole day into a warm blanket and settle things down with a sleepy smile and grateful sense of closure.

_It was as if the bonfire were a giant beacon in the night, lighting the way to peace and harmony in Narnia once more. The talk, laughter, and dance continued on unceasing—the sound of celebration, I guessed, could be heard by the Telmarines unaware of the victories and I am sure they wondered as to what it might mean. The most beautiful thing about the feast (for more food, though I did not partake, appeared in great bowls and paper wrappings on the far side of the fire) was that there was no end. The type of end I mean, of course, is when the guests slowly dwindle away and you're left with a lonely silence and you move about the house turning out the lights. This was the kind of party where the talk and music only grew quieter and quieter, and people begun laying down in rows, till everyone was star-gazing in a circle around the fire. _

_My culture of course frowns upon co-ed sleepovers, but I felt completely fine laying down, leaning my back against a brazen pine who was snoring softly (it was just as if a breeze were fluttering his leaves) with Antonio on my left side sitting with his back against the trunk as well. The fire never grew cold or smaller, but lent warm waves to our toes all night. And even as the moon rose, and I couldn't seem to find a comfortable way to lay down my head, I found it was just as comfortable to shift and watch the Great Lion, standing alone. The moon and He were in their own world, looking longingly at each other, with keen shining eyes. With that image of upmost serenity shutting my eyelids slowly, I was able to finally sleep in the quiet of Narnia's happy creatures._

And waking up was just as odd and sleepy as going to sleep was. The ground was cold, a white sun was burning away the morning mist, and large bags decorated eyelids.

Weary, the creatures dragged themselves back to the castle, bursting into random fits of giggles at memories of the night before—which felt like nothing but a dream—and went into their snug beds. I don't really remember journeying back to the castle, except that I gave something a piggy-back ride, and I in turn was given a piggy-back ride by someone else, possibly Antonio, but he still seemed a little too modest for that sort of thing.

Back at the castle, after collapsing on my shared room, I heard birds cawing and flocks of them went flying off into the distance. They went past our windows several times during the next few hours. I heard Lolidai say that they were sending a proclamation all over the kingdom about the new leadership.

"We are to come together in the Oak Court tonight," she mused aloud, "I wonder why."

"I think its if people don't like the new arrangements…" I guessed, but I could have sworn I heard one of the Pevensie's saying something about it earlier. "Did the dates change? I thought it was to be tomorrow…"

Before Lolidai could answer, Gregiana came running in, her blond hair flying. "WASN'T LAST NIGHT FUN?" she gushed. "Er, this morning, actually??"

"Did you have wine?" I asked.

"Loads of it," Gregiana jumped onto my bed and started bouncing it.

"Erg," I said, burying my head in my pillow.

"Come off it!" Gregiana said joyfully. "The day is just beginning!"

I sat up and looked at her squarely, saying nothing, hoping the death glare would be enough.

Gregiana chattered on. "So there was this one naiad who nearly melted because he got too close to the fire, so I pulled him away and hugged him for hours. It was a long time before he was normal again. After that we did that funny faun jig and tripped a lot. Then we went off a bit by ourselves and watch the sunrise. He held my hand, too! These celebrations sure are glorious, aren't they?"

She threw her arms out like an airplane. "I think its definitely going to get SERIOUS--" at serious, she leaned back too far, screeched, and fell off my bad with a thump on the ground. I burst out into raucous laughter and leaned over to look, but she was snoring heavily right where she landed. I started laughing again, clambering down to see if she'd hurt herself.

"She does that a lot," Lolidai said, waving her hand. "Don't worry about her. She has something that makes her fall asleep when she's jittery."

"Narcolepsy!" I gasped with laughter. "She's got narcolepsy!"

"By jove," Lolidai looked at me in awe. "You know of this problem? What IS narcolepsy?"

"I don't know!" I guffawed. "I have no idea what it is or why it makes people fall asleep all the time."

"How do you spell it?" Lolidai asked me.

"I don't know." I said. "Oh, wait, hold on." I pulled my book bag out from under the bed—and briefly wondered how it got there. Either Lucy dropped it off for me or me taking it up to their room had been moot because of unhappenings—which they'd been, curiously, almost absent. I pulled out the Prince Caspian book and opened it to the last page, scanning Gregiana's ginormous paragraph until the end.

"Narcolepsy," I said, "N-A-R-C-O-L-E-P-S-Y." The swirly writing appeared as I read it allowed. There was nearly fourteen pages worth of the night celebration—but I decided, subtly, that I would most likely edit it down if the opportunity arose.

"Thank-you," said Lolidai, "I will report this to her parents…they've been away in Marshwiggle land, you know, asking the other water species advice. They thought it had something to do with the quality of their well."

I shoved the book back inside the back and felt a hard clunk. I pulled out the shiny camera and gasped. "I forgot about YOU," I hissed, examining it. It had several large scratched and one of the corners was nearly bashed in, but nothing catastrophic. I pressed the on button, and it whirred to life.

I looked at the screen on the back, but instead of the seeing what was behind the viewfinder, I saw the words, "Battery too low for live view."

"Crap," I said, "I've gotta get pics before it dies!" I leapt to my feet and ran for the door—then suddenly my camera shut off.

"No," I whispered, "No, no, no no nonononono…"

"How many times are you going to SAY that?" Gregiana was sitting up, looking at me quizzically.

"Shia Labeouf," I replied hurriedly, "I don't know why but for some reason I tend to react like him when something goes wrong." I turned my camera around and pressed the on button again. It whirred again, the shutter moved—and then it showed a flashing yellow battery with a slash through it. "No no nononono!" The camera whizzed again and the screen went black. It was dead.

"I don't believe it," I whispered.

"It's okay, sometimes word repitiveness is a mark of your culture," Gregiana offered, "It's nothing to be ashamed of."

I turned and gave her a long look, but she only smiled on, completely unfazed. I stiffly walked back to the bag on the floor, shoved it inside, and crawled onto the bed. I fumed in frustration for a few minutes before dozing off.

After was seemed like seconds, Lolidai was shaking me awake. "Dearie," she said, "The coronation is going to be a private affair. Apparantly there is not enough room in the throne room for all, and there are still Telmarine's who question this activity. We fear for Caspian's safety and cannot take any chances until the meeting at Oak Courts."

I mumbled something akin to, "Thanks be to the Lion. Now I can sleep. I didn't want to get all dolled up again anyhow. Thanks Lolly."

And it had to have been some hours when I awoke again…it was nearly four o'clock in the afternoon. The meeting at the oaks was at five. My stomach gave a lurch, and something gave me the uneasy feeling that something bad was going to happen at the oaks. Call it intuition or paranoia, I had it, and I didn't like it.

"I…" I started to speak, and Gregiana looked at me expectantly. "Um… you ever get the feeling something is about to change in a not-so-good

way?"

"Every time I get dehydrated," Gregiana said cheerfully.

I shrugged, and squeezing my eyes shut, buried myself back in bed.

"You should probably get up," urged Lolidai apologetically. "We should get ready. For the Court, meeting, you know…"

"Right, sure," I came back up and looked out the window. Big gray clouds were moving across a serene blue sky and their immense shadows played tag on the hills below. It was picturesque, but my feeling concerning it were marred. I could not, for the life of me, remember what happened after the victory in the book. What if we were sent home? What if I had to LEAVE Narnia? What if the whole thing, rather than being a return, would be an erasing? What if the Pevensies forgot all about me and I woke up in the library as if it were all a dream? If I wasn't careful, my worrisome mind was going to drive me mad. Ah... but woops. Too late for that, eh?

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**Please review! Love to all! Last day of voting is today, so please vote!**

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_Shout Outs to those of you who had specific questions or statements that needed a reply._

**Skywalker: **Golly, I don't know what I'd do without you. It helps to have some critique to help overcome habits and mistakes so I don't make 'em in the future. And don't worry, the ending will go quickly…maybe too quickly. :-(

**I Am Me: **Tell me ALL about your dream. I want to hear all the goofy details. Even if you walk up a staircase upside down. And yes, I totally take it as a compliment. In fact I am the definition of flattered. *chants* tellmetellmetellmetellme!

**Stripysockz: **lol, yup, it really happened. There were plenty of other worse things that happened along with it…like trying to hold hands and telling me he had a girlfriend. But that's another story for another time. Oh! And one other difference! He wasn't a hawt Telmarine… :-(

**Nightstarz: **You and me. Separated at birth.

**Friar Jerome: **Yours is one of the greatest compliments, as I thought no one dude would ever enjoy this story—other than my brother. But have no fear, I am planning the sequel for Dawn Treader. It's not over yet!

**JediMasterTabster: **Reading is like food. I will eat your stories in the near future!

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[If you have not read this yet…]

**BIG…HUGE…NEWS. (if you've read this already just scroll on past it and review instead)**

_**Hello **_my** dear fan fiction reviewers! **I have a** fantabulous **_**favor**_to ask of you.

_I have been_** NOMINATED **for the** 2008 Narnia Fan Fiction Revolution Award!**

In the category** "Best New Story of 2008"!!!!**

**Please, please, please, please, please vote for me! :-D**

All you have to do it go to this website:

www . narniafanfiction .com

or you can click on the link in the profile of NFFR Rox:

www . fanfiction .net/~NFFR Rox

or

www. fanfiction .net/u/1132398

**And vote for the categories, (you don't have to vote for all. There's was a few I had never heard of) and vote**

**STRANGE THINGS HAPPEN IN LIBRARIES WITH DR. PEPPER**

_FOR BEST STORY OF 2008!_

Thanks you guys, it means the world to me. I've never been so excited and surprised! I never thought a self-insert would be nominated!


	22. Now We're Back To The Beginning

**Dearest, sweetest reviewers:**

**Thank-you so much for all the feedback, it makes my days…er, weeks. **

**Little warning: emotional chapter. Love to all, and thanks for your patience! **

**Love,**

**Pip

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**Author's Note:**

**This is for you, Kyle. Thanks so much for your feedback, it means a lot. I love you so much!**

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**-**

**Chapter 22, Now We're Back to the Beginning**

**-**

I could feel it in my bones.

Something was going to change.

I could tell by the way Aslan's eyes lit up in a curious, thoughtful light when he saw me from across the pavement. I'd just gone down to the courtyard, on a whim, hoping to wake myself up by letting some good Narnian sunshine warm my face and electrify the sleepy part of my brain.

I could tell something was going to change by the way the breeze went from balmy to cool, causing small strands of hair to go flying and shivers running up and down my spine. The kind of shivers you get when something is impending, not because of the temperature.

I could tell by the way the clouds rolled over the sky in colossal heaps, driving away the morning damp and letting in the afternoon calm; that the tides of change were rolling in with it.

"I don't like it," I said to myself, turning my face to the bitter breeze and warming sunshine and staring out across the plain below the palace. As I walked, my bookbag bumped against my leg annoyingly.

"Don't like what?" asked Aslan. I didn't even hear him approach, his velveted paws had made no sound as he crossed the flagstones to stand at my side, his presence imposing but gentle.

"What's coming," I said mournfully. "I can't help but feel that some kind of end is coming. Considering the battle is over, and we're at the 'and they all lived happily ever after' stage, that I might just get catapulted. I mean, I was an extra pair of hands during the battle, so they don't need me anymore right?"

"But 'they' I assume that you mean the Pevensie family," Aslan stated.

"You know what I mean—I know you do," I replied.

"You're right. They don't need you anymore," Aslan answered my question honestly, thank-goodness.

"Ah," I said, freezing up.

"They don't need you," Aslan repeated, "They want you. As for catapulting—you won't be alone."

"Do you mean that metaphorically? Your spirit will be nearby? Or someone else is getting catapulted with me?"

Aslan looked at me with a knowing glance. "You will see."

"Ah," I said shortly, stopping and leaning against a stone pillar. "What will it be like?" I asked sorrowfully. "Going back to… to… well, that other place."

"Do you remember?" Aslan asked seriously.

"Remember what?"

"What it was like there; in your home," Aslan clarified.

"Books," I said after a moment of hesitation, "Lots ands lots of books. A carbonated drink. My little brother. Toadstools and popinjays. Swedes. Dentist visits."

Aslan shook his head slightly. "You'll do well, little one. You adapt to change easily."

"Not helpful," I replied. "Can I adapt to my old self after all this? Will I wish for a sword every time someone threatens me? Will I look for a bird when someone says the mail has arrived? What if I accidently bow to somebody?"

"What do you think are the answers?" Aslan asked.

"Possibly, maybe not, that's not Narnia it's Harry Potter, and the other person probably won't care."

Aslan nodded once.

"What if I miss it so much I explode?" I exclaimed desperately.

"Then I will be there," Aslan said softly, coming so close that his warm breath tickled and his nose brushed my hair, "To pick up the pieces."

"Oh," I said in a small voice. I looked out over the courtyard, and I noticed the elder Pevensie children walking towards us purposefully. "Did you arrange to meet them here?"

"I did."

"So… do you want me to skeedaddle?"

"Only if you wish to."

"I don't, but I suppose I ought," I wrapped my arms in Aslan's mane and buried my face for a brief hug. Then I whirled and trudged wearily towards them.

"Sup," I said casually.

"Pippin," Peter greeted, sounding equally weary.

"I take it you are not staying…" Susan asked.

"Aslan only sent for you two, I was here on accident," I assured, scooting around the train of her dress. "Have fun. See you in a few."

Susan and Peter glanced at each other quizzically. They weren't expecting fun. Truth was, neither did I, but I felt inclined to wish it on them.

I ascended the steps to the entrance and glanced at Peter and Susan. They were now on either side of Aslan, walking slowly along the edge of the court. Their faces were somber and glum, yet, bearable.

"Pippin," Caspian's voice said kindly. He appeared through the door and nodded. "Glad to see you are not sleeping anymore. We want you to be there today."

"I have to be there," I said in a monotone.

"Yes… well…" Caspian paused, and followed my gaze. "Do you think I can interrupt?"

"Rather," I replied. Better Caspian than me, and by the unpleasant expressions of the Pevensies, the sooner the better.

"If you want to get over there as soon as possible, it's just down the bridge, bear half a mile to the cliff edge—you must remember, we passed it on our way down to the lower field…"

"Uh…" I glanced at the distance and felt my energy plummet through the floor. "I'll get there _tomorrow_."

"It's not that long of a walk," assured Caspian cheerfully.

"Have you NOTICED the length of my legs?" I barked.

"You could borrow a horse," Caspian suggested, gesturing towards the stable entrance.

"You are my new favorite person!" I erupted, dancing in place.

"I trust you know how to ride?" Caspian persisted.

"Don't you remember Sir Ulrich?" I exclaimed. "Er, well, no, I guess you wouldn't—in midst of the battle—and all that…"

"Bellis," Caspian tapped the shoulder of a shorter, squatty man who was refilling a grate full of coal. "See to it that Miss Pippin is saddled up on a horse, please. Or perhaps a pony."

"I can handle a horse," I said stiffly, "I've been riding since I was seven years old. Unless I imagined the lessons. And my own horse. Perhaps I did. I don't know."

"A small horse," corrected Caspian. "If you please."

"Yes, of course, your Majesty!" replied Bellis charismatically. I turned and followed Bellis as he trotted towards the stables with a hurried "Thanks again!" over my shoulder. He led me into the barn—cold, dank, and a bit smelly—(Tyler, how do you feel when I use the word…_DANK?_) and showed me to the row of small wooden stalls.

"These three are free for your use," Bellis said, gesturing to a group of mud-brown ponies. "And those two over there…" he pointed to decent-sized, muscular pack horses (short but stocky! Like me!) "Are bigger but more docile…"

"Oh he is cuuuuuuuuute," I sighed, patting the nose of the darkest brown. "Look at this face!"

"I have. Many times." Bellis sighed. "Shall I saddle him up for you?"

"Thank-you, I haven't quite gotten the hang of all the straps and buckles…" I said gratefully, stepping back. Within a few moments time, Dark Horse was ready to go and chewing on his bit emphatically.

"Mmmk…" I observed the swinging stirrup for a moment. "Here we go." I stuck my foot in and swung over and nearly fell off the other side. "I underestimated how easy it is for me to do this with a smaller horse," I told Bellis.

"Ah," said Bellis politely. "Ready, then, Miss?"

"Ready, and thanks," I said. I clicked my tongue and squeezed with my knees, and we were off at a brisk trot. After a second of bouncing and my chin hitting my chest, I found the rhythm and was able to post with ease.

"I'm going to call you Comic," I said after a minute. "Get it? Dark horse? Comic? Maybe you'd prefer Batman? I know… Bruce. I'll call you Bruce."

Bruce could have cared less.

I made my way down the drawbridge with a certain degree of surrealism. Was it the same bridge that so many Narnian creatures died upon? The same that Peter jumped over to safety while bearing the horrible guilt of 'sentencing' those left behind to death?

Into town I went—the horse had to move relatively slow through the village, because there were a lot of people moving the same direction. In fact, I'd say it was a very large migration of people headed for the main square, which oddly enough was located on the edge of the cliffs.

Unwelcome butterflies swarmed in my stomach as I followed the crowd to the edge of town, where a large group had already gathered and was listening to Caspian's loud voice. He was already in the middle of his speech. Instead of dismounting and interrupting anything, I stayed in the back and pulled Comic to a halt so that I could see with ease. Getting down, at this point, would mean staring at someone's back and trying to catch his words.

"Narnia belongs to the Narnians just as it does to man…" Caspian was explaining slowly. Everyone was leaning to catch his words. "And any Telmarnies who want to stay and live in peace are welcome to." He glanced at Aslan, as if for reassurance. "…And for any of you who wish, Aslan will return you to the home of our forefathers."

Or permission.

"It has been generations since we left Telmar!" cried a man from the crowd.

"Wrong," said another voice, "It has only been since Caspian the Ninth invaded!"

"My family has lived in Narnia since the Golden Age," replied the Telmarine passionately, "I was born here. I consider it my home."

"Then you may stay, at welcome!" Caspian cried.

"You will not enslave us? Tax us? Cause us grief?" asked the Telmarine. "I have no wish to return to the land of my forefathers I have never known, but I cannot raise my family in an usurped country where chaos may reign."

"I assure you from the deepest recess of my heart," Caspian told him, "I am not my uncle. This is a peaceful time. I want to restore what has been lost—happiness, joy, peace—and a place for the Narnian's to call home after so long in hiding."

"Telmar… really!" said another voice. "Is there much civilization there still?"

"We were not referring to Telmar," Aslan added, "Your ancestors were sea-faring brigands, pirates run aground on an island. There they found a cave, a rare chasm that brought them here from their world, the same world as our kings and queens. It is to that island I can return you. It is a good place for any who wish to make a new start."

My mouth dropped open. _Telmarines used to be pirates?_

"Jack!" I hissed. "Jack Sparrow?"

"Shhh," replied two or three people.

There was a long pause. People looked at each other uncomfortably.

"I'll go," said a voice. I recognized the curly-headed top of Sopespian. "I will accept the offer," he said in a stronger voice.

"Yay, Sopespian!" I whispered, grinning. "I always liked you."

"That's Glozelle," said an older woman near my right. "Now hush, girl!"

"So will we," said another soft voice. Queen Prunaprismia was now following Glozelle up the steps to the small patioish thing. Two or three attendants followed her. She carried her newborn son in her arms.

"Because you have spoken first," Aslan said proudly, "Your future in that country will be good." He opened his mouth and a soft breath came out. Glozelle and Prunaprismia looked strengthened.

Aslan stepped to the side, and a door rested on a small space of grass. The door was made from three posts—two side by side and three feet apart, and the third across the top.

"Through that door, your new life awaits you," Aslan nodded. About six more people followed Prunaprismia, wringing their hands worriedly. A few young lads followed Glozelle. One young man who looked very familiar went up to Caspian and wrung his hand.

"I mean no disrespect to you, your Majesty," The lad speaking was Stefan, the handsome young man I'd danced with last night (the one who was nice to me!). "But I go to protect Prunaprismia," he said, "She has been my Queen since I was born. It has been one of my main duties to serve her."

"Go in peace," Caspian shook his hand in return. "And I thank you for looking after my Aunt. It grieves me to see her leave but it will make it that much easier to know she is in good hands. Please… be a leader where I cannot be."

Stefan's eyes glimmered in appreciation. "Peace be with you, as well," he said, nodding. They stepped back, and he followed the small crowd of about fifteen people through the wooden door that led to nothing.

I blinked, and they were gone.

My gasp was in unison with everyone else. They were gone. In a second. They hadn't appeared on the other side of the posts—they simply disappeared into thin air. What was it called? A portkey? I dunno…

"How do we know he is not leading us to our deaths?" shouted a Peasant when everyone had regained from the shock.

"Sire, if my example can be of any service, I will take eleven mice through with no delay," squeaked Reepicheep's voice. I couldn't see him—there were too many heads in the way.

Aslan did not reply. There was a pause, and the entire mood shifted. I didn't understand it. Suddenly I wanted it to stop. Not yet. It couldn't be. It had gone too quickly! This couldn't be the last… _Stop… stop…_

"We'll go," said Peter, stepping forward.

"We will?" asked Edmund, voicing my exact thoughts.

"Come on," Peter said gently to his siblings, "Our time is up."

"I think that's my cue," I said sadly, clambering down. My head felt light and my stomach suddenly much too empty. I adjusted my bookbag against my shoulder uncomfortably.

"After all," said Peter, unsheathing his sword and walking towards Caspian. "We're not really needed here anymore."

I let myself fall from the horse and handed the reigns to one of Caspian's guards standing nearby.

"Can you see he is returned to the castle safely?" I asked.

"Very well," he nodded stiffly.

I began nudging my way through the crowd. _I don't want to go, I don't want to go, I don't want to go, I don't want to go…_

Turning red, I stepped up to the small platform. Lucy came right up to me and took my hand.

"Maybe you don't have to go," she whispered, giving my hand a squeeze.

"Was I saying that out loud?" I asked with a wince.

"Yes. But quietly." Lucy assured kindly.

"I will keep this safe until your return," Caspian was now holding Peter's sword, his knuckles turning white over its hilt. So I wasn't the only one feeling tense.

"I'm afraid that's just it," Peter looked pained. "We're not coming back."

"We're not?" Lucy asked, her voice betraying a hint of panic. Her hand, just about the same size as mine, grew warmer. I squeezed it back.

"You two are," Peter looked at Aslan, then back at Edmund and Lucy. "And maybe you, Pippin. At least I think he means you to."

I looked into Aslan's golden eyes, searching for the answer to my multiplying questions. There was nothing but gentleness.

"But why?" Lucy pressed, her voice sounding younger. "Did they do something wrong?"

"Quite the opposite, dear one," Aslan explained, "But all things have

their time. Your brother and sister have learned what they can from this world. Now it's time for them to live in their own."

"But…" I whispered. My heart hurt for them. "It's losing a part of you… it's…"

"It's alright," Peter interrupted. "Really. Pippin… Lu. It's okay. It's not how I thought it would be, but it's alright. One day you'll see too." He gestured towards the line of people waiting with concerned expressions. "Come on."

Peter went to Shake Glenstorm's hand. Susan went directly to Caspian. I went up to Trumpkin.

"So long, Trumpkin," I said sadly, giving him a hug. (Voices from my other life, teasing me about my heighth, echoed in my head as if to tease me about how ridiculously easy it was to hug the dwarf).

I turned to Aslan, and Lucy began an awkward little bowing dance with Trumpkin. I wondered when she'd push aside formalities and give the man a hug—_ah, right about now._

"Aslan," I said, and my voice caught in my throat. Something happened inside. I felt like I melted.

"Come here," he said gently. I stepped forward and wrapped my arms into his glorious mane, burying my face.

"Another time," Aslan said quietly for my ears only. "And not too far in your future."

"Thanks," I said sadly, pulling away. "Thanks for everything. Especially living through this. I don't even know how it happened."

"Neither do I," Aslan teased lightly. "Now go on."

"Okay," I said unsurely, joining Edmund's side. He gave me a reassuring half-grin.

Susan pulled away from a No-Room-For-Jesus hug with Caspian the Tenth voted Hottest Man of Narnian Lords. "I'm glad I came back," she said.

"I wish we had more time together," Caspian said.

"It would never have worked anyway," Susan said quietly, but we all heard it.

"Why not?" Caspian adopted the puppy look.

"I am 1300 years older than you," she said with a smirk. She hugged him a second time and backed away slowly. Then she turned and blushed, brushing past Peter to stand ridiculously close to the door.

"Bye, Caspian," I said, walking up and bowing respectfully. "Thanks for… well, for everything."

"So long, Pippin!" cried a light voice. I noticed Trufflehunter puffing towards me. Trufflehunter grasped Lucy's hand and kissed it, and then took mine and kissed it.

"You're welcome, and thank-you… for everything," Caspian told me, smiling kindly. He glanced down at Trufflehunter, bemused.

"Farewell Caspian," I said, forgetting formalities. "And goodbye Trufflehunter." I looked up for Shade's warm face and well-deep eyes, only just then remembering they were gone. "And… tell Phonnow goodbye… thanks for saving my life, oh—and Reepicheep! Bye!" I said hurriedly.

"I will," said Trufflehunter.

"Pippin," said Peter kindly, "Come on."

"At this rate…" Susan began, but Edmund put a hand on her elbow before she could finish. With one final glance at us, Peter turned and went through the door—and disappeared into nothingness!

Susan followed him, and then Edmund.

"Lucy?" I asked, holding out my hand. With tears glimmering in her eyes, she took my hand. We both stepped to the imaginary threshold.

I felt like I was falling and couldn't stop.

_It isn't forever… it isn't forever… _I told myself.

I glanced back. Lucy glanced back as well. They were all watching. Aslan nodded in encouragement.

"Ready?" I whispered, my voice thick.

"Ready," Lucy agreed, smiling through the sadness.

We stepped forward… I looked behind me again and there was only crowds dressed in 40s garb. I looked down at what I was wearing—my jeans and T-shirt. They felt oddly familiar and yet I'd felt as if I'd never worn them before.

I was standing in the middle of a busy train station, grasped by Lucy's hand still.

The sweet air of Narnia was gone.

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**BWA. I'm sitting and typing this out in a coffee shop and it's not the best place to be doing this. It's all rather emotional for me. Someone please point out spelling errors because I am in no state to notice them!

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**There will be one more chapter, and then a sneak peak into "Strange Things Happen in Outhouses with Sushi". Stay tuned, dear readers.**

**and once again, let me apologize for the delay. It's not because I love fan fiction any less, I've just had work and stuff... and I'm working on original fiction... and finals week was the nasty place where the sun don't shine.**


	23. Beginning Is The End Is The Beginning

**Dear Reviewing Folk,**

**Hey! Thanks for hanging out and waiting for that update! Sure is appreciated… Here are the answers to comments and questions:**

**JadenG: **I am staying for the rest of the book, plus some extra.

**Peace-Love-and-Monkeys: **I skipped the kiss on purpose. I refuse. That kiss… unLewis… don't even get me started, lol.

**Cheshire Max: **Yup, I winded up with the Pevensies…

**AnnCann: **Yup… I popped through the library in the summer of 2008. Little bit of o' distance from the 40s… yipes…

**Coralyne: **One more chapter, but also a sneak peak, possibly an author's extra long note…

**Kaelynn McKay: **Guess what! 50% of your first name is a third of my older sisters name! You guys have so much in common… Anyways, thanks so much for the review! I totally understand the family thing… my little brother and best guy friend are the only ones who like 'em.

**I Am Me: **Well, when this is over, I'll continue the FIFF series… Holly and I have been to Pirates already, and the next ones on the list are Harry Potter, Twilight, Smallville, maybe Star Trek and Lord of the Rings… something to keep me busy till Dawn Treader in 2010.

**Lucy Took: **Me like your penname! Yeah so we got this chapter, an epilogue, the FIFF series, and a sneak peek… so don't worry, there's more!

**Thanks for reading, you guys! Love to all, and God bless!**

**-Pippin**

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**To Kyle**

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**Chapter 23, Beginning Is the End is the Beginning**

I let go of Lucy's hand and whirled in a circle once—then twice—taking in my surroundings. The floor, a rough cement, was barely visible through the crowd of schoolchildren of all ages. The tiles on the wall were a light, old yellow, except for broad dark green stripes and the word "STRAND". Susan was scrambling to pick up pieces of luggage and hand them to their proper owners.

I stared on, my chin on the floor. _Well flatten my feet and call me crocodile. I'm in the forties… _everything, all my memories of that 'other place' (USA for crying out loud), my name, my family, friends, my impending membership as a freshman in a university, the entirety of the Prince Caspian story… they all came flooding back. It was overwhelming! I felt pressure inside my head growing bigger and bigger… for heaven's sake; it was like my brain found a light switch without protective anti-electrical shock plastic over it…

A screaming whistle pierced the hustle and bustle, and the steaming train that sat like a waiting beast let out a few choking coughs. White steam puffed out and enveloped my vision, then quickly dissipated.

"Where am I going to go?" I found Susan's shoulder and tapped it. "I'm from… this is… it's all the wrong time!"

"Just get on board, we'll hide you or something," Susan said distractedly, with a look at her siblings. Edmund nodded exuberantly.

"Aren't you coming, Phyllis?" asked an unfamiliar voice. All eyes went to the boy with a funny hat and a round pair of glasses. He was staring down at us from the doorway into the passenger car.

Susan blushed and stepped up to the entrance. Peter and Edmund gave each other curious looks. I waited for an explanation, but none came.

"Whose Phyllis?" I asked loudly, knowing full well who 'Phyllis' was. Edmund stomped on my foot and I almost let out a screech. With a frustrated look, I pushed past the boys and followed Lucy onto the train. Peter and Edmund (who was grinning like the Cheshire cat I might add) came after me. Edmund pulled open his bag and began going through it, jostling me in the small space with his elbow.

"Hey," I mumbled, elbowing him back. "It's small enough in here without jabbing."

"Do you think there is any way we can get back?" Edmund asked hurriedly, looking up.

"What… you mean like, right NOW?" I asked with a smirk.

"Whatever FOR, Edmund?" Susan asked sharply.

"I've left my new torch in Narnia," Edmund stated flatly, looking horribly disappointed. His eyes resembled that of a dog… a little lost one.

I snorted. Lucy and Peter burst into laughter, Susan let out a funny little giggle, and even Edmund couldn't help but grin.

"Maybe it will be there, when we go back," Lucy said comfortingly, patting Edmund's arm.

"I haven't heard of Narnia," said that voice again. "Is that where you're from, Phyllis? Is that the village down the Thames when you're on the South side…"

We turned and looked, and the boy was still staring at us, standing a few feet away.

"Ah, no," Susan said. "No, we're from Finchley, actually…"

"Why do you keep call—" I started, when Edmund stomped on my other foot.

"Ouch," I hissed, "Just poke next time, for crying out loud."

"Hello, I don't believe I know you," Peter took a somewhat protective stance—nothing noticeable, his shoulders just looked a little broader than normal and he most definitely took a slight step in front of Susan as if to block her from view.

"I go to Hendon House," the boy said, much less enthusiastically. "Um… maybe I will see you around, Phyllis?"

"It's Susan actually," Susan said lightly, "My name is Susan. It's been a pleasure…?"

"George, George Weatherby," he grinned, but the grin fell off of his face when Peter raised one eyebrow slowly. "Uh, goodbye, been a pleasure…" he backed up, turned, and went father down the aisle and slipped into a seat quickly.

"How rude," I sniffed disdainfully, "He didn't offer her a candy cane."

This received odd glances, but they didn't even bother to comment. If I were them and they were me, I wouldn't have either. Well actually, I'd probably be dead. Don't think I'd be able to stand myself.

"Come'ere, Pippin," Edmund nudged me and gestured towards an empty seat. We sat down—he let me have the window seat. Susan and Lucy sat in the seat in front of us, and after putting some of the luggage in the rack above our heads, Peter sat behind us and leaned over the back of our seat, spouting off random school plans to Edmund.

This train was much more like a school bus than the cool train with separate cars in the first movie… just rows and rows of seats for two people… ugh. But it was all right. I, mostly, observed the Pevensies in animated conversation, filling their last few hours together with endearing chatter.

When there was a pause, I suddenly stated flatly, "I'm really behind on my fan fiction."

They glanced at me.

"What's that?" asked Lucy curiously.

"Ah… stories," I said, with a glance at Peter. "There's… uh… this one about Narnia… and I'm really behind on it. Like, four chapters into it… the last one was 62 chapters or something… people must think I've abandoned it."

"What's it called?" asked Lucy.

I coughed. "The long one is called _I was King of Narnia, _and the next one is called_ I am King of Narnia: the Return._"

Peter raised one eyebrow. "Pippin, may I ask what the story is about?"

I gasped mockingly. "That is my own business. And I can't talk about it till it's done. Of all the nerve. It's bad luck to talk about the plot before it's finished."

"Really now." Susan said dryly.

"Pff, no," I laughed. "I just don't want to explain it."

"Why did you bring it up?" asked Peter.

"I talk out loud to myself, did you guys NOT know that?" I snickered and glanced out the window. We had passed out of the city of London into rolling green fields that were looking oddly familiar.

"I did know that, actually," Edmund mused, tapping his chin thoughtfully. "It was either that, or you'd gone batty."

"I thought we'd come to a general agreement that she has been batty most of the time," Susan teased, hiding her mouth with her hand and giggling behind it.

"Like it hasn't been said!" I tapped the window. "What country is that out there?"

"Well, England, of course," Peter turned and pressed his face against his window. "Or at least it should be. I'm not one to question suddenly hopping from one country to the other on a whim."

"Excellent point, your Majesty," I nodded enthusiastically. "So, if I told you this doesn't really look like England to me, what would you say?"

"I would ask if you've ever been to England before," Susan pointed out.

"Truth is, I haven't, this is my first time," I said. "Course it's a shame I missed out on a trip to Oxford… I wanted to see Kensington Gardens with the Peter Pan statue…maybe C.S. Lewis's house…" I suddenly realized the irony of that statement and snorted with laughter.

"So you don't think this looks like England?" Lucy asked, confused. "Why wouldn't it?"

"No… she's right…" Edmund said in a strange voice. "Look at it. It… it's odd… but the mountains are so small… the light is different…"

"I am going to have to agree with her this time," Peter said slowly.

Susan pressed her face against her window, and Lucy craned her neck over her shoulder, trying to catch a glimpse.

"Here, Lu, we can switch seats," Susan said kindly. They made the adjustment and Lucy's eyes bulged. "Pip's right!" she exclaimed, "This doesn't look like England at all! How very odd! I do believe that the tracks have a new detour… maybe through a county we've never been in…"

Suddenly, a conductor stepped through a door at the end, announcing in a booming accent, "FIVE MINUTES TO THE LIBRARY, FIVE MINUTES TO THE LIBRARY!"

"What in heaven's name?" I cried, looking at the others. "What does he mean by THAT?"

"Does who mean?" Edmund asked.

"Did you NOT just hear that, Deaf One?" I said unbelievingly.

"No I DIDN'T hear it, Loud One," Edmund shot back. "Perhaps I couldn't with your prattling."

"That conductor guy," I explained, ignoring the obvious burn. "He just announced we were five minutes from the library. Is that a stop? A station? A county?"

"I didn't hear that," Susan said doubtfully.

"I didn't SEE the conductor," Peter added, just as doubtful. "Where did you say he was?"

"Neither did I," Edmund shrugged apologetically before I could answer.

"I thought I heard something," Lucy piped up, always the believer. "Thought I was imagining things."

"Well, thank-you, Queen Lucy," I said, flabbergasted.

"So, you two are hearing things." Susan said flamboyantly. "And our scenery is peculiar. Everyone seems tense. We should all just take a breath and resume civil conversation. So you write fiction, Pippin? How fascinating."

"Look at THAT!" Peter was still staring out the window. We all refocused on the blurry tree line and the swooping power lines moving up and down like a wave.

"What?" Susan asked, peeved. "What is wrong?"

"The telephone wires," Peter said, "It's like something from War of the Worlds."

"I freakin' love that book!" I gushed, going completely ADD. "There's a movie too. It's flippin' amazing. The special effects are… oh wait, haha, you'll get the crappy fifties version someday with the flying washing machines! Haha! That stinks. I get the Tom Cruise version. At least we both have the books! WAIT!" I slammed my hands against the window. "Those are not telephone wires! Those are towers! Power lines attaching to those big ol' steel electrical power things…"

"They're what?" asked Edmund. "Power towers?"

"You're so funny," Susan replied in a monotone.

"OK, well, yes, basically, and I have a theory!" I posed like those silly cartoon Eureka posters that they have in ninth grade science classrooms. "We're in the future!"

This was met with complete silence.

"You see, I came here through a library," I explain, calming immediately. "The conductor said five minutes to the library. Those hills are small and look suspiciously like the Walden range, where I live. Those power lines are modern—completely modern. MY modern, I mean. Like 2008, okay? And the scenery changed!"

"She does have a point," Edmund nodded.

"I've never been to the future before," Lucy exclaimed, "How exhilarating!"

"But… we have to get to school! The term begins soon," Susan said, a little panicked. "And we don't know if time stands still like it does with Narnia."

"I think the train is just dropping me off…" I said uncertainly. We came around a bend and began a decline down a hill. From our window, we could see a wide valley below us, and several very familiar looking buildings.

"THIS IS MY TOWN!" I erupted. "This is my home! Where I live! This is the little town of Walden! Course, name changed to protect individual. But still."

"How quaint," Lucy grinned.

"There's the Drive-In!" I exclaimed. "One of the few remaining outdoor theater's in the US, you know. It's sad, these things go extinct, you know."

"How does the war turn out?" Edmund asked suddenly.

"Um, Ed," Peter began.

"Uh, YEAH, Ed," I repeated. "Am I supposed to be telling you this? REALLY now? Are you REALLY going to put me in a position like that? Thanks… a lot."

"I'm sorry," Edmund sighed, after a pause. "I shouldn't have asked."

"Ooooh, there's Fred Meyers… I think I can see—yup—there's the new hospital," I began pointing out various buildings, naming them, and jumping up and down with excitement in my seat. "Shari's is where it's at," I giggled, "It's a small town. There ain't much to do. We go to the restaurant and stay for hours and hours."

"Guess you'll be leaving us, then," Lucy said presently. Tall pines blocked the view and I settled back in my seat.

"Oh, yes, I guess so," my voice faltered and I began humming the Harry Potter theme under my breath. The tall pines, the cloudy gray sky, and the old fashioned train put me in the mood.

"I'll miss you," Lucy said presently.

"I'll miss you too," I said quietly.

There was a pause, and the train continued down the incline. Soon, we were running alongside a large highway.

"That highway leads to Portland, I was born there," I narrated. "It's not the capital or anything but it's definitely the center of... things. It's said to become the next center of Hollywood activity. You know they recently filmed a movie here called Unbreakable—nothing that you'd enjoy watching, but…"

"Good grief, look at the automobiles," Susan said in awe. They all watched in a complete daze. Modern cars—explorers, Hondas, suburbans, Toyotas—whizzed along the road on the other side of a wide ditch. We pulled ahead of a huge semi truck full of logs.

"Gotta love the northwest logging industry," I said glumly.

"It's like a monster," Lucy said with wide eyes.

"Oh, believe me, they are," I began flicking the seat in front of me distractedly. Soon the trees covered the view again. We went over a wooden bridge—I recognized the old thing from one of the winding roads that led closer to the bigger cities. Then we passed through the industrial sections of Walden, where huge warehouses graced the horizon and massive construction vehicles towered into the sky.

"Shame you don't get the better view of Walden," I said apologetically, "I'd really love to show you around. It's one of the cuter small towns… not quite as cute as Sisters or Pacific City, mind you, but it's got its own thang."

"Looks like a war zone in there," Edmund pointed into one of the construction sites.

"Oh, well, if you look to the left for a moment you might see the towns ice cream parlor, its cute in there, its done…uh, well, fifties style. You guys haven't quite gotten there yet. But. Yeah, never mind. Oh, look, we're turning around."

Very near my best friend Holly's house (the girl who FIFFed to Isla de Muerta of Pirates of the Caribbean with me) the train went in a large U shape and turned around, taking a different branch of track that headed through a familiar neighborhood.

"That was more than five minutes," Lucy giggled.

"Since when are the trains ever on time?" Peter pointed out, his voice sounding strained. "So, don't these people even notice we've gone off course a little bit?"

I glanced around the train car. Some people were sleeping, chatting mildly, or reading books.

"Nope!" I laughed.

Suddenly the train choked and rumbled to a very slow speed, till finally, it stopped. I could see the library from the window on the other side.

The conductor came out of the little door again, announcing, "Folks, we've made a little detour to drop off a single passenger. Just sit tight, and then we'll be off to our original destination." He pulled a clipboard from the wall and looked at a list. "Is a Pippin Baggins in this car?"

"Yes, sir," I said hastily, standing.

"He sends his regards, and would like to remind you that he is always with you," said the conductor. "Say your goodbyes, please, so we may proceed to our original route."

"Uh, thanks!" I said, surprised. "Wow, I love magic," I grinned, looking down at the Pevensies. My grin disappeared. "Wow, fellas, I guess this is the part I start crying. I hate goodbyes. This is stupid." Tears were already running down my cheeks. "Ignore me. I'm… uh… this is embarrassing. I told myself I was NOT going to do this."

"Aw, Pip," said Susan tenderly, "We're going to miss you too!" she stood and gave me a warm hug. My eyes were wider than normal with this show of affection on her part. "You take care of yourself, understand me? You've got a knack for troublesome situations."

"I promise," I said tearfully, pulling back. I looked out the window again. The town of Walden was just as I left it—cloudy and cool—a good book day. On the right side lay a very old, beautiful house that began a rather quaint neighborhood, and on the left were groupings of older brick buildings—an abandoned school, the mason building, an antique store, and the library itself.

"C'mere, Pippin!" Lucy threw her arms around me. I hugged her back tightly (wow, I love hugging people the same height as me) and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. "Be good," I added as we pulled back. "Maybe… maybe I will see you again?"

"Rather," Lucy wiped a huge tear from her own eye.

I turned and looked at Peter, who was now standing, sternly. "Peter," I said stoically.

"Pippin," he said, equally stiff.

I let out a laugh and held out a hand. "Isn't this customary?" I asked politely.

"Yes," he said, his eyebrows going up. "But it's not like you really pay attention to any rules… why start now?"

"Aw," I said, "You want a hug too!" relieved, I gave him a quick, non-awkward hug. "You be careful," I said seriously, looking into those baby-blues of his, for once, without any foolish fangirl flutters in my stomach.

"YOU be careful," he corrected, patting my shoulder. I turned to Edmund, grinning apprehensively. "G'bye," I mumbled sadly, throwing my arms around him and squeezing tightly. "Little bro!"

"Not so little," he hugged back. "Just younger. Now hurry up. We'll be late for school."

"Right," I sniffed, stepping away. "Bye… everyone. It's been… amazing. If you guys only knew. I mean, seriously, Narnia, and Aslan, and everything…"

"It's OK, Pippin," Edmund told me, "We understand. But you're just making this harder."

"Oh, right, yeah," I gulped and wiped my eyes. The tiny door was open, and I stepped out into the Walden air—fresh and green—and my foot touched modern asphalt.

I wanted to say something much more meaningful, something coherent, something worth the ending of my own story. But it had all come out wrong, and jumbled, and it just sounded stupid…

Adjusting my book bag on my shoulder, I turned and watched the train gather its chugging steam and with a lurch, begin the journey down the tracks again. Four hands waved exuberantly from the steamed up window.

"Goodbye!" I called, waving.

"Bye, Pippin!" called their voices through the cracked open window, disappearing in a shrill whistle. The train whipped past me and chortled down the tracks through the middle of the road, disappearing into town—there was a sudden flash of light, and it was gone.

"They're gone," I said, almost surprised. Unlike the whole experience, sharp and as real as anything I've ever been through, walking down the quiet street of Walden to the tiny library parking lot felt like a dream—to quote Tolkien, it was almost like falling asleep again. I felt like the Hobbits at the end of "Return of the King", looking around a place so familiar where life had continued on undaunted… so full of normalcy, where no one knew or cared what I had been through. Surrealism had never been so clear to me before this.

I walked past my bicycle, my first little ticket to the biggest adventure of my life, and patted its' handlebars affectionately. I passed through the doors into the dark, cool interior of the library, where happy voices hummed and children giggled in the children's wing. I took the stairs two at a time and ran for the old section of the library from which I had the little, ahem, accident. The dark 1940s framework lined the whole room, tall shelves of every classic known to man stretched to the ceiling. I went into the aisles, feeling every turn were a new one. I arrived on the outer edge and looked out the window—I could see a parking lot below. And I thought I was going to die by falling out. How foolish of me.

The can of Dr. Pepper sat on the floor, open and fizzing. Not even close to being thirsty, I ripped the tab from the top of the cold can and put it in my pocket—a keepsake and a reminder, if you will. I put the can in the garbage near the original doors of the library, blocked off and unused.

Suddenly a thought occurred to me. I pulled the copy of Prince Caspian out of my book bag and opened it to a random place.

"_Nothing compares to a Narnian sky," Lucy said proudly. "The colors just aren't as bright—or real—anywhere else."_

"_I wouldn't say that," I said a little sadly. "Where I live, the sunsets can get twice as vibrant as this. Of course, the pink could be because of the radiation exposure and the clouds could be from pollution, but no matter. It's still just as beautiful as this."_

"_I'd like to see where you live," Lucy said politely, picking up her skirt and beginning to walk again._

_I stayed and watched the clouds gather into a dark column, spread, and finally extinguish the last ray of sunshine. "Nothing gold can stay," I said out loud._

"It stayed as it was," I mused out loud. Clutching the book to my chest as if it were a precious treasure, I made my way slowly through the rows and rows of books, running my hand along the edge of the shelf. When I felt the small fixture where my finger had become stuck, I investigated the small impurity in the wood. I tapped it a few times, with no results. As if it would work again! How silly of me. Same thing never happen the same way twice, does it?

Tearing myself away from lingering in the library for too long, I went downstairs again and went to the counter to check out the book.

"I'm sorry," said the librarian—the rather kind but weird one who told me she talked to spirits once. "This one, dear, is yours."

"Mine?" I said confusedly. "Is there something wrong with my card?"

"Well, it does expire in two weeks," said the librarian, "But this book. Inside. See?"

_Courtesy of the Walden Public Library. You are now the owner of this book! For the Summer Reading contest, there are exactly one dozen books hiding throughout the library that are limited editions of children's classics for its lucky finder to keep, with wishes of happy reading from your library!_

"Wow, this is amazing, you know C.S. Lewis is one of my favorite authors?" I held the book again, running my hand over its cover appreciatively. "I'm stoked… this is unbelievable. Wow. I'm like, gosh. This book is so… its important… you don't even know."

"Ah, yes, dear," said the librarian, a little weirded out by my reaction. "Well, enjoy your book. Will there be anything else for you?"

"No, thank-you, this is great, thanks!" I turned and trotted for the door, noticing a sign that read "NO CARBONATION DRINKS ALLOWED! THANKS, the Management." Glancing guiltily back at the librarian, I noted she was watching me suspiciously. I grinned and exited the building.

I stepped out into the afternoon light and began to unbuckle my bike from the rack. I suddenly thought of Regina Spektor's song from the pre-movie soundtrack that was released nearly a week ago. As my brain's most practical function is like that of an eternal ipod, these last words came to mind…

_You'll come back, when they call you, no need to say goodbye._

The thought made me grin to myself, and I wiped the last trace of tears from my face. I didn't want to show up at home all a mess.

_I've said my goodbyes anyway, _I thought. _But I hope there is chance I can return… _Peter's last words in Narnia suddenly came back to me, and with them, a glimmer of hope settled in the pit of my stomach.

"_And maybe you, Pippin. At least I think he means you to."_

A curious wind picked up—and in it rode a scent that reminded me of Narnia's perfumed air. The wind blew harder, whipping my hair back. I looked to the road, the direction from which the breeze came. A huge truck went by, and with its ferocious engine, I could have sworn I heard a lion roar in its midst.

--

**THE END…**

**and**

**....to be CONTINUED…**

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**Wow, guys, this has been quite a journey. Stay tuned though, it isn't quite over yet. I have an epilogue coming up and a sneak preview of Book 2. Add me to your Author Alert with the function on the bottom left of this screen to get an email notification when they, and more FIFF adventures, are posted.**

**I could never have done this without your support, encouraging/critiquing reviews, and yes—your prayers as well =)**

**I can't say thank-you enough. This has been one of the most heartwarming experiences I've ever had with fan fiction, and it would not have been possible without you. And for those of who have been reading this while patiently waiting for the Mary Sam series and "I am King of Narnia, the Return" I am going to get started again on those soon. Thanks for waiting!**

**Now, a BIG ANNOUNCEMENT for the sequel. You will all want to read this.**

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**IMPORTANT NOTICE (all read por favor):**

I am changing the sequel title! I know we've all kind of gotten used to the "Strange Things Happen in Outhouses with Sushi" but I think that the humor, however funny, is a bit crude for a title, ya know? Plus it can be taken in a number of ways, and I don't want it to be taken in any way that it's meant. I've given the new title a lot of thought, and after a bit of debate, have chosen

**Strange Things Happen at Festivals with Dr. Pepper**

I decided that for a sequel, if we stay with an old tradition (Dr. Pepper being what I say when I'm too lazy to say the whole title) but changing up setting to a new place. If you guys totally hate it, then flame me… flames will be used to tan my unnaturally white legs. If you guys like it, let me know that too! I thought it had kind of a nice ring to it…

Thanks to all who participated in helping me choose the previous title, I still, as always, appreciate all the help you give me. I apologize sincerely to Romanii and Scarlet Noir, whose collaborated ideas gave me the previous title. I hope there are no hard feelings =)

The End… again... for now...


	24. EPILOGUE & A True Story

**Author's Note:**

**Done in a wee bit of o' different style, nothing too bad, there's just a LOT of Tolkien-sized (that meaning BIG and WORDY) descriptions. Dialogue to follow. **

"**The Call" written and performed by Regina Spektor

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**Chapter 24, EPILOGUE**

At the dusty Pendant, a single screened movie theater that graced the old fashioned downtown of Walden, a long line stretched past the carpet shop and around the corner to the rather sketchy parking lot. At eight o'clock, the doors opened for those who paid at the raggedy ticket booth. Inside, there was a small snack counter on the left and two entrances to the dark auditorium a mere eight steps ahead. On the right, a set of carpeted spiral stairs led up to the projector room and the restrooms. In the small upstairs lobby, an ancient film camera was on display, along with a piano and old posters for movie classics; like Casablanca and Tarzan. The walls were the color of 50s sage green trimmed in a faded burgundy. Inside the auditorium, a chandelier covered in cobwebs (that looked as if it were made from square pieces of green glass wrought together by reddish iron) hung from the lofty ceiling. Two small balconies at the front of the room, its railings in the pattern of fleur de les, sat unused and inaccessible. And finally, thick red curtains that reminded one of every opera classic known, sat heavily on either side of the screen.

Before the film started, old cartoons about the snack bar with very musically inclined characters played in a loop. There were funny advertisements urging one to "not let the love bug affect ones conduct during the movie" or to "take a friend to the church of your choice this Sunday".

Then finally, after trailers for _Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull_, the cringe-inducing _Beverly Hills Chihuah_ua, _Twilight _(that one caused a few painfully pitched squeals of utter delight), and _High School Musical 3: Senior Year _(where were their wheelchairs and care homes?!) the opening credits for the anticipated Disney film, "Chronicles of Narnia, Prince Caspian" began to a roll. A giant moon filled the screen, only for the camera to dash through the window of a castle to show a woman yelling loudly in the pain of giving birth. Several people sat back in their seats in surprise, and some laughed at the manly yelling. Then they were allowed, finally, to see the namesake of the film—Prince Caspian—flee from his uncles murdering hands into Narnian wilderness, while credits scrolled passed the bluish nighttime scenery. Before it seemed the audience could even take a breath, the monarchs returned, the world was plunged into battle for its survival. When a familiar tiger galloped alongside the army of humans and creatures alike, one particular audience member let a few teardrops fall.

All too soon, the final words began to play. "_It started as a feeling, which then grew into a hope, which then turned into a quiet thought, which then turned into a quiet word. Then that word grew louder and louder, till it was a battle cry. I'll come back, when you call me, no need to say goodbye. Just because everything's changing, doesn't mean it's never been this way before. All you can do is try to know who your friends are, as you head off to the war. Pick a star on the dark horizon and follow the light. You'll come back, when it's over, no need to say goodbye. Now we're back to the beginning, its just a feeling and no one knows yet. But just because they can't feel it to doesn't mean that you have to forget. Let your memories grow stronger and stronger, till they're before your eyes. You'll come back, when they call you, no need to say goodbye. You'll come back, when they call you… _

…_no need to say goodbye…_"

And then it was the end.

--

"So?" I asked my brother, nicknamed Bugs, as we walked to the car. "What did you think of it?"

"Amazing," he grinned. He glanced ahead at Mom and Dad, and then leaned closer, whispering, "That all happened with YOU there?"

"Don't believe me anymore?" I asked, sticking out my lower lip.

"No, no, I believe you," he assured me, "But, I guess maybe I thought I'd see some kind of sign you were there somehow."

"It's a movie," I shrugged, "I wasn't in the MOVIE. I'd be makin' a lot more money if I was. Although I always imagined it would be nice to see me walking by in the background—but, of course, highly improbable."

"You sound like Susan," Bugs said loudly.

"Your MOM sounds like Susan," I snapped back.

"Actually, she does," Bugs laughed.

"Hey!" said my mom. "I do not!"

We all laughed. As we walked to the car, I left my hand drift over the glass covering the Prince Caspian poster, laughing a little over the stylized Hollywood posing. The breeze picked up, and a semi truck went roaring by, and I listened carefully for the sound of a lion roar in its midst—and, I was, disappointed when I did not hear it.

But you know what? I know it happened. I know it was real. There are big things coming my way—my first year in college, looking for a job, purchasing dorm stuff, paperwork—but can't I face it considering what I've been through? With Someone watching over me—whom, I can honestly say, I've kind of 'met' face to face? The future is uncertain, but I feel prepared by my unexpected adventure… I know I can move full speed ahead with a smile on my face.

**THE END**

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_**-True Story-**_

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(As in names have been changed for word for word, situation for situation, its all true, hehe)

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_It's 3 AM and I am taking a lovely, fresh-air walk through Walden with my friends Strawberry and Bob. Perusing through a dark neighborhood and getting decently frightened because of the mugging stories Bob chose to share at those precise moments, we walk down the street a block from the train tracks and went through the parking lot of the Insurance Company. From there, I look up with a certain fondness at the dark peak of the library rooftop. Staring forlornly towards the window into its older section, I heave a sigh. _

"_What was that, Pip?" asks Berry, twirling her reddish hair and spinning around to look at me._

"_Oh, nothing," I say flippantly, "I just love love love that library."_

_Bob snickers. "Wow…you're in love with a library? Uh, wow, you're so gross."_

"_Wow, Bob," I roll my eyes. "No, I just have very fond memories there."_

_Bob didn't believe me. "Like WHAT?"_

"_Well," I adapt my Shakespearian tone. "Once upon a time, I was drinking Doctor Pepper—"_

"_Haha, you WOULD, Pip!" giggles Berry._

"_Ah, shutup," I laugh in return. "So anyway, I began to choke, and when I placed my hand on the bookshelf beside me—do you know what happened?"_

"_No," they chorus together._

"_A secret door swung open and shoved me right into NARNIA!" on the last word, I throw my arms outward like an airplane for effect._

"_Whaaaaaat?" drawls Bob, unfortunately, a little too gullible for his own good. "No—no! What? Really? Nooooo! I don't believe you! Wow, Pip, like, what… no… you couldn't of, I mean, no. Wow. No. Didn't happen. Weeeeird."_

"_Wow, Bob," I laugh loudly, "I was KIDDING."_

"_You're silly, Pip," Berry says fondly, wrapping her arm around my shoulders. Helping support her weight because of a recent ankle injury, we begin to cross the main street. _

_The library looms behind us, a dark shadow against the midnight blue sky. The breeze shivers its lone redwood tree in its front yard, and a chill races down my arms. I may have fooled Bob for a minute, and despite the question of fiction versus truth, I still felt a thrill of memories penned by myself and living—quite realistically—in my imagination.

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**NEXT UP—SNEAK PEAK OF THE SEQUEL—"STRANGE THINGS HAPPEN AT FESTIVALS WITH "! ADD ME TO YOUR ALERT LIST TO GET AN EMAIL NOTICE WHEN I POST A NEW CHAPTER!**


	25. Sneak Peak for Sequel

**Dear Readers,**

**I am still getting many reviews for this story, even though I finished it ages ago. If you'd like to read the sequel (which in my opinion is WAY better than this one! Gosh I was so young when I started it!) please go to my profile and read "Strange Things Happen". I did not call it "Strange Things Happen at Festivals with Doctor Pepper" like I planned, I shortened it. Thanks to all you lovely people who have read and enjoyed my story, despite it being rather immature and terribly rushed. Your support is what makes me keep writing. I love you all. **

**Pippin**

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**SNEAK PEAK FOR SEQUEL **

**PLEASE CLICK 'STRANGE THINGS HAPPEN' ON MY PROFILE FOR THE REST**

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…

I don't suppose anyone would recognize me now.

I suppose they'd wonder what the blazes came over me. Why I would put my life on the line… why I was risking my neck for this.

Was my existence worth this?

Who would look at me and think I was the same person?

I, painfully nicknamed Pippin in high-school—forever dubbed through the internet as Pippin Baggins—was wearing a pair of _high heels._

Anyone I once knew could perhaps recognize me—but they would take one look and say, "That can't be Pippin. Pippin would never be caught dead in high heels."

My point exactly. I was waiting for the moment to trip and fall over, face planting, and dying. It would be all too easy; a lack of coordination and air of clumsiness was still in my possession. I still couldn't dance to save my life. Nothing about me is graceful. All it takes is a little fissure in the ground, a hole, an unstable blade of grass—a friendly shove, or an unfriendly shove—followed by any other kind of accident. A spilt drink, a bicycle going by too quickly, maybe getting chased by a bee.

Anything could happen, and then, I would die.

In my mind, there is no injury or hospitalization. It's always instant death for me. It goes straight from possibilities to an epitaph, a prediction to a eulogy, a random thought directly to the grave digging… from a single gulp of Dr. Pepper to being swung out two stories over a parking lot but landing in a sandy cave instead?

Hey, it happens.

…

It was cheerful, but quietly so. Everyone spoke in low, conversational tones, without the need to laugh too loudly or shout over their food and drink. Caspian sat at its head, and when he saw me, stood up and waved me over boyishly. He was gesturing me to sit at his left side, but when everyone saw him stand, naturally they all followed suit and stood—at respectful attention—looking at me as if I was someone they needed to impress.

"Please don't get up," I choked on my huffing snickers of giddy delight at the mistaken level of importance. "Do sit down."

They looked to Caspian, only to find him chuckling just as much. He motioned for everyone to sit and resume, which they did. I dropped my fistful of skirt down, back to the floor, afraid it would be considered disrespectful to be barefoot at the table of the King.

At Caspian's left side, I sat between he and middle-aged man. The man wore a ready grin, shaggy unkept hair, clear sky-blue eyes and clothes that smelt of sea-salt. His cheeks were ruddy with windburn and his hands were leathery with work.

Across from me sat the DLF—dear little friend—Trumpkin himself. But he did not see me—he was engaged in a rapid conversation with a giant raven.

"Drinian," Caspian addressed the man I sat next to. "I'd like to introduce an old friend of mine—Pippin. She once worked with the four monarchs."

"How do you do," I said politely, about to shake his hand, just as we heard the sound of a horrible cough coming from Trumpkin's place. Trumpkin was staring at me, open-mouthed. He had choked on his wine and nearly spilt it all over.

"_PIPPIN?" _he gasped, wiping the wine from his hand onto the napkin.

"Ello, DLF," I said cheerfully. "I tried to say hello to you yesterday—but I'm afraid you mistook me for a journalist."

"Why—how did you—what, _Aslan's Mane—_what are you doing here?"

I bit my lip. "Visiting?"

"_Voyaging," _corrected Caspian.

"Oh!" I clapped my hands like Snow White. "Caspian! Er, I mean, your Majesty! Am I to go, then?" I turned to Drinian. "You don't _mind?"_

"You're to go on that blasted ship?" exclaimed Trumpkin indignantly.

"What the Lord Trumpkin _means _is, he's happy for you," Caspian interjected, smiling jovially.

…

I met more sailors I hadn't been introduced to (properly) yet. I shall try and introduce you to them, as well as I can… I met them so sporadically—sometimes speaking to them off and on all day—only to learn their name from Aemon several hours later. Due to the unconventional way of "meeting" those I traveled with, I shall list the following crew members that walked along the beach, talking and laughing, and dreaming about what adventures the future might hold for us. I hope this shall provide some context, so that it does not appear crew members are just popping out of the woodwork when they've been there all along.

There was Rob, the young tenor lad who sang about the lost love and her empty glove during the deck-party. He was of a medium build, tanned by the sunlight, and had long hair pulled back in a ribbon. If only he had a three-cornered hat, he might have looked like he came from a Sons of Liberty protest in 1770s Boston.

There was Klaire, our crows-nest watchman. The man so slender that he could have been a pencil and I might not have noticed. I think the lack of "2B" written on his forehead was the give-away. His face was beardless and his face looked a little starved, but I have to say that my favorite feature was his crooked nose (broken far too many times, he said.)

There was Ave, the sailor who was trying to sleep while I sketched Aemon's portrait; he was short, bearded, burly, and wore a headband that unnecessarily kept back short tufts of red hair. If I had to describe him without knowing him very well, I'd say he was suffering from short-person's syndrome. If it was bigger than him, he wanted to challenge it to a boxing match.

Neil, a large, portly fellow, was the one who teased me about the _Dawn Treader_ size, before we boarded for the first time. He didn't talk so much as he laughed. He chuckled, snorted, chortled, jested, guffawed—every type of laugh, he had it, and executed it more often than he spoke. This wouldn't be odd, except that he hardly smiled before laughing. He'd be frowning, when all of a sudden, a laugh would jump out and frighten everyone half to death.

I've mentioned him before, but there was also Flanagan, the fiddler. He was lithe and energetic, like a bird, but strong and nimble—with a tendency, I'd noticed, to not wear shoes, but rather a purple scarf tied around one knee. He was about twenty-six, but looked fourteen. It wasn't just me who had a "baby face", thank-you very much.

The one that I immediately fancied—not romantically, mind you, but the same inspired awe that most people have when meeting their heroes and inspirations—was a faun, the only other hooved creature (other than the minotaur) on board. His name was Pan, ironically. His blondish coat, small pointed beard, and gleaming eyes were, for the most part, the only specific things I observed about him. He kept to himself, and I hadn't the opportunity to strike up conversation yet. He seemed to be the introvert of the group.

Last but not least, there was Bastian, a gentlemen who was I think almost eighty years old but described himself as "a young sixty". He kept a pipe firmly clenched between his teeth at all times, but I never saw it lit. His hair, white and wispy, seemed to be constantly floating away from his head from static electricity. He called it his "lightening hair" due to Narnia being somewhat behind in scientific terminology.

I have sadly neglected the other members of the crew (about eight others, I should think), but truthfully, some of them just didn't do a lot of talking, and many of them were night-watchmen.

So when they were working, I was sleeping, and when they were sleeping, I tried not to disturb them. I hoped that walking about to see the sights would present an opportunity to learn their names and spend time with them, but they chose to stay behind with the ship and oversee the replenishing of supplies.

Aemon, Rob, Ave, Flanagan, and I… well, and King Caspian, for that matter… were clearly the younger ones of the group, all in our young-twenties. The age difference showed, in a way. We were prone to talk, laugh, and argue, much louder and more carefree than the others. Drinian, Rhince, Rynelf, Pan, and Reepicheep were in mid-thirties (I think—perhaps fauns and mice age differently). Tusk, Baron, Jekyll, Orpheus, Bastian, and Neil made up the elder generation, though they joked and laughed among themselves as much as the younger folks—just with more decorum.

It was different, naturally, _being_ there and knowing them. They were not just members of a list. They were the roots and branches of the _Dawn Treader_. For however long I'd be there, they were an honorary family.

_SPLAT!_

Without warning, Aemon chucked a bundle of seaweed at my head. It landed against my shoulder with a stinky slap, slid off, and rolled back into the surf.

"I am going to kill you," I said with a clenched smile, looking around the ground for a good weapon. I found nothing. Lacking the means to do any better, I scooped up a handful of wet sand, let out a war whoop, and tossed it in his direction. It landed on the back of his calf.

"Eek!" he squawked. "Cold!"

"Serves you right!" I retorted.

"Children," Tusk moaned. "If I'dda known you two would act like a brother an' a sister who can't get along, Idd'a left one of ya on board!"

"Obviously not me," I said innocently.

"Here!" declared Ave suddenly. "I'll show 'im!" He took off after a startled Aemon. We watched as their figures grew smaller and smaller in the distance, till Ave took a flying leap and took him down. An impressive fight was probably occurring, but the cloud of sand prevented us from betting on the victor.

"I should employ Ave to do this on a daily basis," Tusk said dryly. "Then he'd have an excuse for that behavior."

"He's a not a bad chap, though," protested Rob. "You know we grew up together, we did, and I know him to be of the bravest sort."

"Well, you grew," corrected Neil. "Ave will look like me in a few years, likely as not." He patted his own, round stomach. This inspired a few bursts of laughter from the others.

…

Redhaven's spiced air, warm sands, and musical jungles were left far, far behind. They were nothing but pleasant memories that caused many a smile whenever someone felt a wave too rough or a wind too cold. I wouldn't be surprised if a few sailors left with broken hearts—I won't say names, but some of them wanted to stay and be married and never go sailing again. (Cough, Geoff, Flanagan, Robin, cough).

Now, it was only ocean. There was a bit of rain, but nothing too chilly. The salt of the air, bleaching sun, the creak of the sail ropes, and the dash of the prow cutting through the waves was all that existed. A certain quiet settled among the ship—not among the people, though. The sailors joked, laughed, and sang as much as ever. But the ship itself sailed without any problems and hardly seemed to need any handling.

On the third day out, Geoff invited me to stay up one night and observe the night crawlers at work, convinced that there was some rivalry and they should prove they are the better workers. I went to sleep just after noon, and woke up sometime in the bitter bleak of night. I stumbled out of the cabins, blinked in the torchlight, and saw that the ship did indeed seem to be "crawling" with spidery sailors. They were up the rigging, in the nest, at the helm—making sure that we were on course at all times.

"So am I just supposed to sit here?" I said doubtfully to a passing shadow.

Geoff's face peered into the orange sphere of firelight, considering my question. "Crows nest?" he asked.

"Fear of heights!" I bemoaned.

"Helm, then," he grinned. "Olan will tell you anything you want to know."

I clambered up the stairs and greeted Olan, who instantly boomed "GOOD EVENING!" and shook my hand so hard I felt seasick. The man was so smiley and, despite Orpheus being the biggest person on the ship, he seemed to take up so much space. I felt like I was Reepicheep's size.

"So you're the navigator," I attempted to start a conversation.

"Ah, helmsman!" corrected Olan. "I go where he tells me!" he gestured behind us. Sitting in the darkness on the bench was Herring, the man who looked like everyone's favorite dad who turned out to be a sword-wielding wizard. Herring gave me a polite, respectful nod.

"Is that the King's new toy?" jibed a voice somewhere above.

"That is very rude," Olan said slowly, "Unless of course, I mistake your meaning? In which case I apologize!"

I looked around, and saw someone lounging on one of the rope ladders spanning the distance between the railing and the crow's nest.

"If thy tongue be a rudder, it determines thy ship," snapped Zacharius, from the galley door. "And thy ship run a black flag if thy rudder directs you to foulness."

"Ugh, someone translate?" said the person above.

"It means shut your idiotic mouth," said Herring, sternly. "Persus, I've been more than forgiving about your so-called humor…"

"Alright, alright," Persus, on the ropes, back-peddled. "I retract."

"Uh—so—Zacharius cooks for our crew," Olan explained, trying to smooth over the tension. "He is the wisest person on ship."

"Do me a favor, Miss Pippin?" asked Zacharius, peering out from the galley again. His white and silver beard seems to display all his years of mentoring. "When you see His Majesty, would you remind him that I am available as his advisee whenever he requires, even if it's during the day shift?"

"I'll remind him, definitely," I promised.

"Thank-you."

"Midge is up in the crow's nest," Olan continued, "And you've—uh—met Persus."

"Pleasure," Persus said, sourly.

"He's from Galma," Olan whispered, as if that explained his behavior.

"Narnian or not," Herring said sternly, "We abide by a code of honor, set forth by Reepicheep—the respected knight of Narnia was entrusted to provide regulation for behavior. Remember that, Persus."

"Aye aye, Herring," Persus replied, sounding genuinely chided.

"Now, that's Teeth, down there," Olan pointed to the chicken coop. Teeth was pulling out fresh eggs, and handing them off to Thornton, the other muscular one who didn't say much.

"Teeth and Thornton are awfully quiet," I said.

Olan chuckled. "Teeth is a mute, Miss Pippin. He cannot hear or speak anything."

"Isn't that dangerous, not hearing commands?" I said, feeling very sorry for him.

"Well, that is what Thornton is for. He's a big quiet chap, you see. But he communicates with Teeth. They have got a body language and they are always together. Teeth cannot get along without him—but he works for Zacharius, in the galley. He's got young Aemon's job when he's sleeping."

"Is Zacharius an apothecary, too?"

"Naw, just Tusk. If we need a physician, we have to wake him up."

"Hopefully not too often, then," I replied, smiling.

"Only when Midge fell on me from the crows nest," said Geoff's voice. He popped up out of the keel, waving a small piece of parchment around. "I've got some instructions from Captain Drinian—he's heard about Persus, apparently."

"What's that, eh?" Persus asked.

"You're to mop all the decks tonight," Geoff grinned.

"That's not fair," Persus moaned.

"Are you questioning the Captain?" Herring said, sternly.

"No disrespect intended," Persus grumbled.

"For the record," said Midge's voice from the crow's nest. "I didn't fall on you, I jumped, and you deserved a sore arm for flirting with that Redhaven girl. Especially since that Robin had made it clear he would stop in for a visit with 'er on the way back."

"Why, Geoff," I scoffed, "You and Robin were fighting over the same girl?"

Geoff laughed. "Oh, we thought we stood a chance. Then Olan walked by."

Olan grinned. "You jest. She had no interest in me."

Zacharius's voice suddenly boomed from the galley. "Think not on trivial flirtations that go not past the eyes and what the eyes see! Rather think on what makes you holy, and a vessel for Aslan's will and bidding!"

"Amen!" I exclaimed.

…

Suddenly, shivering and shaking, Lucy Pevensie—Queen Lucy, the Valiant—was being helped over the railing. She looked about fourteen or fifteen, as radiant and beautiful as ever, having lost the child-age shape of the face and gained another five or more inches in height. Her adorable school-girl jumper, skirt, and headband were soaked through and she was staring, wide-eyed, at the ship. She hadn't seemed to quite compute what she was looking at yet.

I rushed forward unceremoniously and threw Caspian's coat around her. "Don' wantti to c'tch caeld noeew, do we?" I shrieked in a Cockney accent, far too excited to see her to keep my composure. _My bebies! _I thought.

"Pippin?" she gasped. "Is that you?"

"Hector!" I exclaimed, as if just now recognizing her. "Your Highness!"

"What…?" drawled two or three voices, unbelievingly. Aemon's mouth was hanging open, wondering why I was referring to her as _Highness. _Or, maybe it was because I called her Hector.

"This is Queen Lucy, the Valiant," I said loudly, holding Lucy like she was one of my wee children at the middle-school youth group. She was shivering and wide-eyed with shock.

"What!" exclaimed more of the sailors.

The rope came up again, and this time, Neil was pulling Edmund over the side. He clambered down, clumsily and wild-looking. His dark hair was sticking up in all directions and his school-clothes looked unsuited for him, being of course, more Narnian than English.

"King Edmund the Just!" I said casually, giving Aemon a glance. Aemon looked like he was about to pass out.

"Is this? What is this? Is this Nar…" Edmund trailed off and made eye-contact with me. "You look familiar," he said slowly. "Is that…?"

"It's me!" I released Lucy of my coddling and ran up to him. Lucy slowly sat down on the bench, nursing a knee where she bumped it against the side of the ship.

"P-P-PIPPIN!" Edmund blurted, his eyes working crazily over the whole scene. "What? How?" Neil was suddenly throwing a large blanket over Edmund's shoulders. "Oh, uh, thank-you," Edmund said quickly. "But—but…"

Then, a younger boy—squirming and wailing like a cat getting bath—was pulled over the sad. And behind him, Caspian jumped over the railing with ease and brought the last of the rope with him.

"C-C-Caspian!" exclaimed Lucy.

"Queen Lucy!" He sat down beside her and gave her a hearty hug. Eustace practically lost all sense of coherency when he saw the strange man hugging his cousin and calling her _Queen._

…

* * *

**There you are! I do hope you read and enjoy and follow me on many more adventures… **


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